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born-in-hell · 9 hours

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WHY Q!BADBOYHALO IS PROBABLY FED:

SPECIAL GUEST THEORY - THE MASTERPOST

Important Information!

Hello! This post was written in january and febuary, before the workers at Quackity Studios came out with their stories. Ever since then, i haven't been following the QSMP as a server, despite still writing a fic based on it and following the situation with the workers somewhat closely. I just can't care about it as much as i did. Im posting this theory because it meant a lot to me at the time. I truly believed i was right, and that Badboyhalo would be the main antagonist. I even had the throry that the QSMP would end in a dispute between q!Fit (Madagio + The Rebellion) and q!BBH (Fed). I worked for such a long time gathering evidence for, organizing and writing this post that it just feels bad to keep it in. Today (30/4/24), another ex-admin, named Elk, released a statement, that said: "There was an odd rule where main island lore was never allowed to tie into creator-specific lore, despite creators actively wanting to involve themselves with the federation and being permitted to do so and certain creators having a HUGE influence on the overall lore.". This just erased any and all motivations i ever had to make a theory that links everything together. There was never a truly coherent story. Which makes not only this theory, but any and all theories that link the player characters to the main island lore, useless. Being honest, i just didnt want this post to go to waste, mostly because i worked a lot on it. For that, this post is very much not finished. Most texts are not fully written - my ideas are not as developed as i wish they were. And i apologize for this, i just dont have the energy to finish this. If you want to know my take on the QSMP lore, you can check out my fanfic. Despite all this, I hope you all enjoy this.

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This is a compilation of all the evidence we have to support the Special Guest Theory.

I created this mainly to show people that don't have as much free time or are just dont have the energy to think about or remember all this why the Special Guest Theory does make sense.

This is a colaborative work, as I wouldnt be able to think about all this without these wonderful people: @lionheartedmusings @demodraws0606 @lxrd-ren @skullhalo @windchime-of-teeth

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Where it all started: The ARG Emails

On Feb 21, Quackity Studios posted this tweet, that had an ARG puzzle.

The "special invitation" also grasps my attention, but it might be coincidental wording.

Decyphering the puzzle, it lead to a Google Doc, that had many emails.

Among them, there was this one:

[Respectful greetings, We are seeking quotes for the purchase of 1393 muffins to satisfy the extra demand of our special guest. For those who are not aware of the situation, it was pointed out that it is an obligation to share two muffins per person in the workspace to guarantee happy and productive work. We wish to receive your commercial proposals as soon as possible. We appreciate your commitment and effort in preparing your offers for evaluation. Sincerely,]

So uhm... muffins right? Who could it possiblly be referencing?

I honestly can't think of no one else besides q!Badboyhalo, even outside of the qsmp, whose brand is so intrinsically connected to this little cake things.

The number is also very specific. If every worker needs 2 muffins, why is the order an odd number? That just isn't divisible equally to everyone.

-> I will make a separate post detailing what i think the 1393 could be referencing.

I want to mention here that, by the way this email is written,

q!Badboyhalo's Teaser Post

Ok, so there are a coulple things to pay attention about this post. First the muffins are a clear reference to Bad (there's no arguing here, he is the muffins guy).

Second, where it was posted; unlike all the other cc teasers ─ that were posted on @/quackity4k, quackity's alt twitter account ─ this one was posted on the official Quackity Studios account, along with the arg post that is.

-> These are the other QSMP cc teasers:

Third, its the only teaser thats accompanied by "welcome to the QSMP". All the others either include something related to the cc (like a bird emoji for Jaiden), or teasing words (closer; up next).

Fourth, the milk emoji. Its curious, and out of place. It is so odd and specific that it deserved to be discussed.

Especially considering that, coincidentally, this is what Badboyhalo responded to the QSMP teaser that i'll talk about later:

Milk is often ─ surprisingly ─ a symbol commonly used with villains in media, to symbolize various things, but mostly to cause a discomfort in the audience, as milk is associated with purity and childhood. So pairing it with ruthless and cruel villains creates an unsetteling atmosphere.

-> Some reference links: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4

The Teaser Video

-> click here to watch the video

The video starts off in a dimly lit room, with some boxes, and, most notably, a tv, a vcr player and a chair. A shadowy figure enters the room, and inserts a cassette on the player. A promotional video of Quesadilla Island starts playing. It shows the figure watching the video, and the scene is interrupted by a black screen with "20 years later" written. It ends with two other shadowy figures (Quackity and Slime, presumably) talking in the train that took the first group to our current Quesadilla.

The only thing that we can notice on this person, is a little white marking on both their left and right hand.

Some theorized it could be qFit, but he doesn't have the marking on his right hand.

Right side /// Left side

The only character, from the first group of islanders, who has a white marking on both hands is q!Badboyhalo.

And q!Badboyhalo being part of the fed in 2003 does also make sense in his lore; he's never mentioned where he was or what he was doing around the late 1990's and early 2000's.

Unlike fit, who was 13 in 2003. He was a child ─ he was only a bit older than q!Cellbit during the war.

This is, in my opinion, one of the most substantial evidences we have of q!Badboyhalo being involved in whatever the fed is doing.

The 2013 War

When qCellbit started researching the fed, as a child, he was forcefully exiled from Quesadilla, because he found out too much about what was going on. Maybe the tests on children (q!Baghera and the other deceased hybrids), as he says this on his letter to q!Bagi:

[...] I saw everything inside, they were doing all this beneath our very feet… it’s horrible, Bagi. You don’t deserve this, I don’t want you to have to live with these guys. So meet me on the other side of this ocean Bagi. I’ll be going now, I don’t care if I have to swim until [...]

-> You can check q!Cellbit's old diaries translated into english on this post

He ended up, somehow, in a war, where he, coincidentally, first met q!BBH.

q!Bad has stated he was in the war to overlook it.

Antoine's Comic

This comic was given it was given, from Cucurucho, specifically to q!Badboyhalo.

-> check this twitter clip of antoine's talk with cucurucho to see the full conversation

The Purgatory Puzzle

Codeflippa lead qBBH, qAypierre and qMaximus throughout the maze, into a white room with a red button. Before activating the button, this was shown to them:

-> Could the asterisks mean Badboy? or maybe Mr. Halo?

They pressed the button, and then recieved this book:

Via a warpstone, they were taken to another maze, this one with a puzzle and two pictures of cucurucho.

After going through some rooms, they found a small pillar, with Dapper's hat on top of it, as you can see here:

Why? Why was dapper's hat there?

If this is a foreshadowing to the fact that Dapper would always be the eggs that would be freed from purgatory, independently from the roulette, than why Dapper?

What makes Dapper special, or different from the other kids, that earned him this, and possibly his life?

The group found themselves in a circular room, with three die. These die, coincidentally, had the same colors as q!Badboyhalo and Dapper: black, red and white.

There was a chest, and in it, they recieved this books:

Badboyhalo was shortly after teleported into the middle of the room, so he could play the game.

He thew the die and got a 7.

He then was gifted this ticket:

Again, why q!Badboyhalo? What makes him different?

It can't be him being a demon, since Mouse and Tina were already on the island.

So what makes him so special that, not only theres a full puzzle dedicated to him (as evidenced by Dapper's hat, and qBad being the chosen one for the game), but he's the first person (not counting q!Bagi nor q!Carre) to get a ticket? He's the only islander that had to go through this puzzle to get it, the other ones were just teleported into the room. Not even q!Max or q!Pierre got tickets that day.

#qsmp #qsmp lore #qsmp theory #qsmp badboyhalo #qsmp fit #qsmp duck #qsmp purgatory #qsmp discourse #qsmp neg #qadmin situation

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imhyperfixatingrn · 7 months

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It's almost 4 am and I need to vent my thoughts about CodeFlippa (my beloved daughter who can do no wrong)

I have a lot of different theories beacause of the massive mixed signals CodeFlippa gives us. But there are things about her that are undeniable.

1. She's obviously affiliated with the codes one way or another. She might be a code, part code or works for them, not matter what it is they're connected. Source: the fact that she writes with numbers, tps around, and got upset when q!Slime mentioned the codes as his ennemies.

2. She doesn't seem to want any harm done to the residents of the island. Whether it is manipulative or genuine, she has protected qSlime both agaisnt insults and attacks.

3. We can obviously see that she has ulterior motives. She was trying to learn more about the eggs disappearance and broke into the feds office. But, on the other hand she seems to genuinely enjoy hanging out with qSlime and others, and seems to be getting really affectionate towards her dad.

The biggest question of all is; Is she acting? This is the fundamental question. She acts like an egg better than any other code has ever achieved to, and unlikely the codes who have disguised themselves as eggs she doesn't fight, she's more coherent, more present. She acts like an egg, truly. So is she only half code?

I think it is possible that the code brought the real JuannaFlippa back with missing memories and code dna. This would explain why she doesn't know she died, why she has clear motivations but seems so uncertain and scared about what she's doing.

A part of her is just a little girl, the other is a spy. Sort off.

Even if CodeFlippa is 200% a code and is doing all this for ulterior motives she's not necessarily bad. She's done no harm and cares for qSlime.

To me it is very specific that she told qSlime she was scared and that he needed to remember she loved him.

In a way it kind of feels like a message that she knows she's different. And she just wants to be with her dad but the code in her is just pursuing its goals.

It would also explain why she doesn't know or remember leading BBH, maxo and aypierre through the maze. Because she wasnt herself at the time.

I also think in a way this is the codes way of trying to bribe qSlime into joining them. In a book they spoke about wanting to hire Foolish and potentially gifting him a cloud to influence him.

What if this is the same and they brought back JuannaFlippa with code dna to make qSlime happy, for him to join them.

Anyway, CodeFlippa is an angel I support her rights and her wrongs

#qsmp #juanaflipa #juana flippa #charlie slimecicile #qsmp slimecicle #slimecicle #code flippa #qsmp theory #qsmp thoughts

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skye-huntress · 9 months

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Atelier Ryza Anime Reaction

Episode 5: The Best Idea

Looking at the thumbnail, my first thought was that Lent ditched wearing shirts anymore a whole game early.

Ryza, you have a cute girl in your room and all you’re focusing on is your alchemy. What is wrong with you?

That line in the middle of Lent’s sword is still worrying me. Seriously, man, upgrade already!

That’s an elaborate method to read multiple books while you walk. But why though?

I like how Klaudia said nothing, just watched the inevitable disaster unfold. It’s the only way he’ll learn.

Lila really said it’s time for the obligatory beach episode.

Admit it, Klaudia, you just wanted to see Ryza in a swimsuit.

Ryza’s scared of the water? Wait, no, after some thought, it makes perfect sense given an incident in her past. Plus, she doesn’t swim at all in the first game, but can in the sequels.

You’d think islanders would have more opportunities to swim, but I suppose there are monsters in the lake that’s connected to the ocean. Plus all the waterways on the island are part of their precious water supply.

Ryza is like, if it makes Klaudia happy, I’ll overcome my childhood trauma and learn how to swim!

At this point, I can’t tell if Lila is actually helping them relax or just looking for new ways to torture train them.

Ah, there it is, the trauma flashbacks.

This anime is just giving me even more reasons to ship Ryza and Klaudia. I kind of figured it would, but I didn’t know I’d be fed so well, and this is even before Klaudia officially joins them on adventures.

Where’d Empel go? There’s no way he’d be able to sneak off without Lila noticing and immediately dragging him back.

I see Ryza’s training for underwater gathering in the future is going well.

Yeah, at some point, I did figure out where they were despite how different the scenery is.

Lent’s finally learning how devious Lila’s “training” is.

Empel, why?!

That does sound like something Lila would do.

I guess Tao and Lent fail, meanwhile Klaudia is almost as good at spotting potential materials as Ryza.

Pretty sure you don’t find lightning ore in that clearing. It was probably left there by whoever that place belonged to.

Lila just cranked up the difficulty to the highest level! That’s just mean!

One on one, they don’t stand a chance against Lila. They’re a bunch of teenagers who have lived a sheltered life on an island, while she is an experienced warrior who is obviously not human. Teamwork and clever tactics are the way to go.

Okay, that was clever!

Yeah, apparently the Giant Kurken Fruits don’t compare to the regular one’s in taste.

Handholding and now a hug. This episode has spoiled me.

She has had a taste for adventure. It won’t be long now.

There it is! Next episode, it’s secret hideout time!

#atelier ryza

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whereistheonepiece · 3 years

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Missing You

Quick summary: Sanji misses Zoro.

Note: I haven’t outright stated it before, but my collection of short Zosan oneshots is connected to my fic “To Run.” This one makes a few references to it.

Sanji woke up to the feeling of Zoro’s lips on the corner of his mouth. His eyes flitted open and his lips curved upward in a groggy smile as he took in the sight of Zoro, partially hovering over him in bed, smiling down at him. Sanji made an amused sound in the back of his throat, laying a hand on his love’s bicep.

“Hi,” Sanji said, his voice still thick with sleep. Sanji wound his arms around Zoro’s solid, warm torso, and pulled him down so Zoro lay on top of him. He chuckled softly as they both repositioned themselves to be more comfortable. “Morning breath,” Sanji whispered, putting his palm in Zoro’s face and pushing him back when Zoro leaned in for yet another kiss.

Sanji let out a small, undignified yelp in surprise when Zoro’s tongued darted out of his mouth and pushed between the gaps between Sanji’s fingers, poking out at Sanji in defiance. Zoro’s grin grew as Sanji withdrew his hand from his face.

“Child,” Sanji said accusingly.

“You had to know getting licked was a possibility when you put your hand there,” Zoro, incorrigible as ever, shot back.

“Actually, I thought you might just bite me like the savage you are,” Sanji said, staring up at Zoro with partially closed eyes.

“And that wouldn’t have bothered you?”

“No, because I was expecting it.”

Zoro snorted, rolling his eyes. “Dumbass,” he said, the playfulness in his voice turning the old insult into a term of endearment.

“Barbarian,” Sanji said in return, grinning to himself when Zoro laid his head on his chest.

“You love me,” Zoro said, more to annoy Sanji than to state the obvious.

“You’re so sure of that,” Sanji said, his voice glib, his fingers soft as he ran them along the path of Zoro’s spine all the way to his head, pushing through the soft green hair.

Contentment rumbled from deep within Zoro’s throat as Sanji played with his hair. “Yeah,” he said dreamily. “I am.”

Sanji lifted his head to kiss the top of Zoro’s. If only those who called Zoro the Demon of East Blue could see him now. They’d change their minds quickly if they could see him practically purring like a common house cat at having his hair stroked.

They lay there together, Sanji petting Zoro until his hand grew tired, Zoro lying on Sanji like a living, breathing blanket. Usually Zoro preferred to have Sanji lying on top of him, but Zoro had become somewhat clingier as of late, coming to Sanji for physical affection more frequently than he normally did whenever they had time alone together.

It had been a bit of an adjustment for both of them when Sanji brought Zoro onto the Baratie. Back when they sailed on Sunny, Zoro could come to Sanji when he was preparing food for the next meal. He would hold onto him like the clingy, affectionate pest that he was. Zoro was less clingy whenever he had Sanji’s full attention, but he’d been receiving less of it lately.

It had been easier to give Zoro his attention back when all Sanji had to worry about was keeping a small crew fed and didn’t have a restaurant and its guests to look after, a staff working under him, or the constant pressure to prove himself worthy as Zeff’s successor. It was even harder to give Zoro his attention when he couldn’t let him hang onto him while he was cooking like he used to. Sanji was sorry that he couldn’t give Zoro that anymore. While he used to tease Zoro for being needy or accuse him of being annoying when Zoro grumbled at him for needing to move around the kitchen while they stood like this, Sanji did enjoy it. It was a nice compromise that kept Zoro happy, and Sanji did enjoy the company and the fact that Zoro wanted to be close to him. But Sanji was a boss now, and it was hard to be taken seriously when he had a grown man hanging off him.

So Zoro found a new way to get Sanji’s attention. He’d observe restaurant activity until there was a lull, and then he’d waltz into the kitchen, grab Sanji by the wrist, and announce, “Break time!”

The other chefs were always overjoyed to see Zoro. Sanji was aware he wasn’t an easy boss, especially if the day was stressful, and Zoro pulling him into the office to kiss him always left him in a better mood. The staff had noticed this, and so they welcomed Zoro in the kitchen, showing their appreciation with booze and a snack whenever he and Sanji came out of the office.

“You’re spoiling him,” Sanji would always chide the chefs, although secretly he was grateful that Zoro and the chefs were on good terms.

But maybe Zoro was growing restless with the way things were on Baratie. Sanji had less days off than he did back when they were part of a pirate crew. There were no more islands to explore, less opportunities for them to have a day all to themselves. So Zoro found more reasons to initiate physical contact with Sanji. He pulled him onto his lap when they sat down together. He grabbed him in his sleep and was always hesitant to let go upon waking. He’d touch him in some small way throughout the day whenever he saw him.

And then came the suggestions. It first started with simply telling Sanji what he should do regarding his work schedule.

“You work too hard, Cook,” Zoro would say. “You should ease up a little.”

“That’s what happens when you run a restaurant, Marimo,” Sanji would retort.

“You should go on vacation,” Zoro said one day, leaning against the wall and staring out the window. His arms were crossed and his stance was relaxed. He spoke as if this had just occurred to him, though Sanji was now starting to suspect it had been on his mind for longer than he’d let on. “Take a break from restaurant life. We can go visit the rest of the crew. Or just go wherever. Doesn’t have to be super far.”

“I don’t have time for a vacation,” Sanji said dismissively. He placed a cigarette between his teeth as he lit up.

“Why not?” Zoro asked, looking at Sanji.

“Who’s gonna run this place with me gone?” Sanji replied.

Zoro blinked. “Zeff. It was his restaurant, originally.”

“Zeff’s worked hard enough for three lifetimes,” Sanji said, waving the idea away with his hand.

“Okay,” Zoro said tensely, sounding as if he was forcing himself to be patient. “Couldn’t your cooks manage without you for a little bit? Some of them’ve been here as long as you.”

Sanji abruptly stopped in the middle of a drag of his cigarette, holding the smoke in his lungs as he tried and failed to imagine those idiots getting on without him. It was why he still hadn’t gotten around to appointing a sous chef.

He cringed, exhaling sharply through his teeth. “No,” he said firmly.

“You’re just making excuses now, Cook,” Zoro said, his brows pulling down in a scowl.

“What do you want from me, Zoro?” Sanji snapped. “I told you I can’t go on vacation! Can we talk about literally anything else? I don’t have much time left on my break and I’d rather spend it doing something else other than getting pestered by you!”

Zoro grew silent, his scowl easing somewhat, but not going away completely. “You know what?” Zoro said, pushing himself off the wall. He walked past Sanji, his boots treading heavily across the floorboards. “Forget it.”

And Sanji had, at least until now. And he thought Zoro had, too, since he hadn’t brought it up again, though he’d kept his distance during the next few days, leaving Sanji to himself until they retired to their bedroom. Sanji hadn’t said anything, preferring to leave it alone, and now, with Zoro lying on top of him, he felt guilt gnawing away at his heart.

“Hey,” Sanji said some time later.

Zoro took time to answer, his breath coming out in a short puff against Sanji’s bare skin. “Yeah?” he said groggily.

“Did you fall back asleep?” Sanji asked.

Zoro groaned, rolling off Sanji and onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling. Sanji rolled onto his side and laid his elbow on the pillow, propping himself up and cradling his head in his hand while he awaited Zoro’s response. “I think I did,” Zoro said.

Sanji smiled. He stared at Zoro, struck by a moment of clarity as the realization that this life, going to sleep with Zoro and waking up next to him each morning, was actually his. Zoro looked at him and caught him staring. He smirked. “Enjoying the view, Curly?”

“Maybe,” Sanji drawled. “You are pretty easy on the eyes, Marimo. Bedhead notwithstanding.”

Zoro rolled his eye at Sanji as he held open his arm invitingly. “Well, what are you waiting for?” he asked when Sanji didn’t move closer. “Come here already.”

Sanji obliged, laying his head on the junction between Zoro’s shoulder and his chest. Inhaling slowly, Sanji loosely wrapped his arm along Zoro’s stomach, enjoying the quiet stillness of their bedroom on this day off work. Idly rubbing his leg against Zoro’s, Sanji reflected over his decision to close the restaurant one day a week when Zoro had asked him about it. Not only did the rest of the men enjoy the free time, but it gave Sanji and Zoro peace and quiet all to themselves. It may have upset some of their clientele, and Zeff had given him some grief over it, but if it made Zoro happy, then Sanji would gladly deal with a few complaints.

Zoro had his arm around Sanji, rubbing the pad of his thumb against his shoulder. Several minutes passed before Zoro spoke again, and the hesitance in his voice made Sanji pay close attention. “Cook...”

“Yeah?”

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

“What is it?”

“What would you say if I told you that Luffy wants to take me with him, Usopp, and Nami on a trip?”

Sanji blinked. They’d spent days, even weeks, apart back when they were searching for the One Piece, including those two years the whole crew had spent apart. In theory, Sanji had no reason to hesitate before answering. But it had been a year since he’d taken Zoro onto the Baratie with him, and they hadn’t spent a night apart since. Sanji had become accustomed to starting and ending his days with Zoro by his side. He found the idea of something disrupting his routine to be daunting.

But he did not voice these thoughts. Instead he said, “How long were you thinking?”

“A few weeks,” Zoro responded. Sanji swallowed. “Maybe a month?”

“Why so long?” Sanji asked.

Sanji felt Zoro shrug. “You can ask Luffy that,” he said. “Something about visiting a few islands before heading back.”

“I see,” Sanji said quietly.

“You didn’t tell me what you think,” Zoro said, his thumb coming to a stop.

Sanji closed his eyes, his thoughts turning to how quiet Zoro had become when Sanji had shot down the idea of the two of them going on a trip together. It wouldn’t kill him to allow Zoro to have some fun with their friends. “I think,” he said, “that I’m going to have to prepare your and the others’ favorite meals before you go.”

“All right!” Nami said brightly, looking Zoro up and down. “Got everything you need, Zoro? We’re not turning back once we leave.”

“I made sure he does, Nami-san,” Sanji spoke for Zoro, winking at Nami.

Nami smiled at Sanji, nodding at him. “I know you did, Sanji-kun,” she said, demonstrating her faith in him by turning her attention to the map in her hands as she and the others made the final preparations before they boarded Sunny with Zoro.

Watching her go over the map of the islands she and the others intended on visiting, Sanji felt himself longing for the simplicity of the life he’d shared with his crew. He felt his heart filling up with nostalgia for the days when he and his friends could explore strange islands together, days when they could gather around the same table together and share stories and food. They still occasionally saw each other, but when their crew was scattered around the world, it was difficult to get everyone together at the same time.

Taking a drag from his cigarette, Sanji looked at four of the most important people in his life, and he felt the pull of adventure tugging on his heartstrings.

But he could feel the weight of Baratie and its responsibility all around him.

So Sanji exhaled smoke from his lungs and walked up to Zoro, who had Luffy wrapped around his torso. He held his cigarette between two fingers with one hand and he grabbed Zoro’s face with the other. He pulled him in for a long goodbye kiss, Luffy’s voice in his ear as his former captain tried to convince him to come with them.

It was quiet as Sanji got ready for bed. It was often quiet when he and Zoro got ready for bed together, as Zoro was not a loquacious person to begin with, and both had long ago learned to share an easy silence with each other, but this was an empty quiet that Sanji was now unused to.

Sanji stared at his reflection in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, his eyes blank and his jaw stiff, his movements mechanical. He looked at the unoccupied space next to him in the mirror, the beginning of a story about an entitled customer waiting to spring forward from his mouth. If Zoro were with him, Sanji would have pulled his toothbrush out of his mouth and, mouth full of foam, started telling him about his encounter with a customer that had insisted on being served a meal that currently wasn’t on the menu. And Zoro would have listened until Sanji popped his brush back into his mouth to finish brushing his teeth. Zoro, in that straight to the point way of his, would have asked him, “So did you kick his ass?”

Air escaped Sanji’s nose in a small burst of amusement at the thought. He pointed his eyes down toward the sink and spat out the toothpaste, wondering if Zoro was keeping up with the nighttime routine they’d established, and therefore brushing his teeth at the same time as Sanji. Rinsing out his mouth, Sanji could feel the weeks without Zoro stretching out before him, opening a chasm between the two of them.

Sanji had intended on waiting at least a week before picking up the Transponder Snail to call Zoro. He wanted to give Zoro time to himself with their friends, but also wanted to prove to himself that he wasn’t so needy that he couldn’t last a week without hearing Zoro’s voice. After all, Sanji thought as he chopped carrots for the stew he was working on, he’d gone longer without talking to Zoro. Surely Sanji wasn’t that needy, that clingy. Surely he had enough going on with the restaurant to keep him preoccupied. Maybe Zoro would end up calling him first.

But Sanji felt his restlessness steadily rising within him as the days passed. Work was as hectic and demanding as ever, and one of Sanji’s primary releases—taking a break in his office with Zoro—was gone, leaving Sanji trembling with an undercurrent of frustration and pent up aggression throughout the day. He’d tried channeling it into work, tried dealing with it on his own in his and Zoro’s room, and he tried calming his nerves by chain smoking like there was a secret prize at the end of each cigarette, all to no avail.

It was when he tried picking a fight with Carne and Patty that he finally gave in.

Sanji, at the end of his patience, goaded the longtime staff members into a fight that they could not possibly win. Carne and Patty, to their credit, fought back as valiantly as they could, but they were no match for Sanji. They knew this. Sanji knew. Zeff, who’d been watching from a corner, knew this.

Zeff had given Sanji one look and jutted his chin toward his former office, silently insisting that they talk. And suddenly Sanji was ten years old again, following Zeff until he came to his senses and took a few quick strides to catch up to Zeff and then move past him on the way to Sanji’s office.

Behind the closed door, Zeff simply told Sanji, “Get your affairs in order, Eggplant. You have no reason to bark at your men like that when they’ve done nothing wrong.”

Sanji had bristled at Zeff and told him to mind his own business, telling him, “Oh, you’re one to talk about lashing out at people when they don’t deserve it!” Privately he knew Zeff was right. However, instead of telling him so, Sanji engaged Zeff in a screaming match until their argument had petered out into little more than red faces and heavy breathing. Zeff had skulked out of the office, remaining silent for the rest of the day. Sanji had come out a short time later, angrily adjusting his tie, daring any one of the chefs in the kitchen to look his way.

Everyone in the kitchen, save Zeff and Sanji, kept their heads down as they worked on their individual tasks, the air thick with tension and their collective unease.

Sanji, walking stiffly back to his station, heard one chef mutter to another, “I miss Zoro.”

Sanji deflated a little at hearing that. Clenching his teeth, Sanji pointedly kept his eyes down as he worked, thinking, I miss Zoro, too.

He called Zoro later that evening.

“Cook?”

Sanji smiled at the sound of Zoro’s tinny voice on the other end of the receiver. He’d never heard a more beautiful sound in his life. “Hi, Marimo,” he said, reclining on their bed. “How’s the ‘adventure’ going?”

“Pretty tame,” Zoro said. “I was just thinking about how much more dangerous East Blue seemed back when we were all starting out. Now it feels downright peaceful.”

Sanji chuckled. Zoro’s assessment of the sea they called home brought back memories of how young they’d been when they’d all started sailing together, back when the odd Sea King was their biggest threat. They really had no clue what they were getting into back then. “How’s Luffy?” he asked.

“He’s having a blast,” Zoro said. “I think all he cares about is getting to sail with his friends again.”

The longing to be out on the open sea with his friends again awakened in Sanji, manifesting itself as a weight in his chest. He imagined himself on Sunny again, preparing lunch for them while Luffy and Usopp fished, Zoro napped in the sun or polished his swords, and Nami read in a lounge chair.

“That’s good,” Sanji said. He lay on his side, grasping the receiver in one hand. He comfortably draped his arm along his middle and drew his knees up slightly, imagining Zoro lying in bed behind him and spooning him, rather than talking to him on a Transponder Snail on another ship. “And you? How are you, Zoro? Not missing me too much, are you?”

“Missing you a regular amount,” Zoro said cheekily. The Snail, on its perch on the bedside table next to Sanji, mimicked the relaxed smile Zoro would wear while enjoying Sanji’s company. The only thing better than seeing the Snail replicate his love’s smile would be to see that smile in person.

“So you do miss me,” Sanji teased.

“Course I do,” Zoro said. “You know I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I know,” Sanji said. He imagined Zoro wrapping an arm around him, right under Sanji’s own. “It’s just nice to hear you say it.”

“I miss you, Cook,” Zoro said for Sanji’s benefit, and it made Sanji melt.

“I miss you, too,” Sanji said softly, hoping the Snail had picked up his voice.

“And what about you, Cook?” Zoro said. “You wanna tell me what happened today?”

Sanji frowned as he thought back to the fight he’d started with Patty and Carne, then the argument he’d had with Zeff. He shrugged into the open air, wondering if the Snail on Zoro’s end was currently mimicking his movements. “Nothing to report. Everything’s the same as usual around here. The men miss you.”

Zoro laughed. “You’re not being too hard on them without me around to help you...ah...relieve your stress, are you?”

Sanji grimaced, covering his face in shame. “Nope,” he said, his voice slightly strained. He made himself yawn, pretending he’d suddenly been overtaken by exhaustion. “Well, I’m pretty tired. I’ll talk to you later, Zoro.”

“Oh,” Zoro said. “Okay. G’night, Cook.”

“Night, Marimo,” Sanji said. “Love you.”

Sanji ended the call before Zoro could respond.

While Sanji slowly adjusted to spending his nights alone, it was in the quiet, stolen moments that he most missed Zoro. Finding a patch of sunlight, perfect for napping; stepping out for a smoke when the lunch rush had finished, picturing himself reaching his hand out and threading his fingers through Zoro’s; stepping into his office for a moment of solitude and picturing Zoro sitting at the window seat, inviting Sanji to sit with him.

Sanji decided to go for walk along Baratie’s deck before turning in for the night. He looked up at the moon and brought his cigarette to his lips, his mind on his and Zoro’s conversation earlier that night.

“When do you think you’ll be coming home?”

“Well, I think Nami’s had enough. Luffy’s begged her to let us visit one last island, and then we can go home. So as soon as we’re done with the next one, we’ll be heading home.”

Sanji inhaled deeply, trying to do the math in his head to figure out how much longer until he got to see Zoro again. Zoro and the others had been sailing for a couple of weeks now, but Sanji figured the trip back would be slightly faster since they wouldn’t be stopping at each island they came across. He only had to wait for just a little longer until he could have Zoro by his side again.

He stared up at the full moon, chuckling at himself for how ridiculous he was being. A month was nothing in the grand scheme of things, really. A month was speck of sand on the beach in the rest of his natural life. Just when had he become so soft? When he’d invited Zoro into his life, he supposed, and all the compromises and changes that entailed.

He let his gaze drift across the sky, taking in the map of constellations as familiar to him as the skin on the back of his hand. Was this how Zoro had felt? This yearning for more, this desire to spend more time with someone inaccessible to him? Sanji hoped that he didn’t make Zoro feel as lonely as he currently felt, hoped that the time they did spend together was better than total solitude, but a picture of what Zoro must have felt was beginning to form in Sanji’s head.

Sanji frowned, gaze falling until it landed on the sea. Remorse seized hold of his heart as he remembered all the small ways Zoro had sought Sanji’s touch in recent months, as if trying to squeeze out every last drop of quality time with Sanji in the fleeting minutes that they had. Just a little of Sanji’s time, that was all that Zoro asked of him. A week, at least, to visit a nearby village and spend some quality time together. Was that really so much to ask for? Sanji no longer thought so.

He thought of leaving the restaurant alone for a week. He could let Zeff watch over things, just like he had for so many years, but Sanji still didn’t like the idea of asking him to take over for him just so he could run away with Zoro for a short time. Running a restaurant was hard work and Zeff had more than earned his rest. So that either left one of the chefs onboard or looking for someone new. Sanji was hard on the men, but he knew any one of them was skilled enough to work as head chef, so long as they put in the work. It was just a matter of finding a man with the right personality.

Sanji would tell Zoro this when he saw him again. The idea of finally relinquishing some of his many responsibilities and letting someone else help out was strange, but Sanji had already alienated Zoro to the point of running off on a month long adventure with their captain. He didn’t want to end up losing him. He’d already lost Zoro once and he wasn’t going to let that happen again.

Sanji jumped on Zoro the moment he stepped foot on Baratie’s deck, tightly wrapping his four limbs around him. One hundred men couldn’t remove Sanji from Zoro if they tried.

Zoro took this in stride, supporting Sanji by the thighs. “Hi, Cook,” he managed to say before Sanji started kissing him.

Luffy hooted somewhere behind Zoro, shouting, “Sanji missed Zoro!”

Aware they had an audience, Sanji pulled back, but he grinned at Zoro, whispering, “Guess you should let me down now.”

Zoro laughed softly, his eye crinkling at the corner in a way that made Sanji’s heart melt into a puddle of mush. “I guess so,” he said, setting Sanji down.

Slipping an arm around Zoro, Sanji called to Luffy, Usopp, and Nami, inviting them onto Baratie for a meal to welcome them all back.

Pleasantly exhausted, Sanji relaxed into Zoro’s arms. Content smile etched into his face, Sanji breathed in Zoro’s scent, felt the heat of Zoro’s skin against his cheek. All was right with the world. Zoro lay there in bed with him, happy to share this moment with Sanji.

Sanji laid his hand on Zoro’s abdomen, relishing the solid feel of Zoro’s body beneath his touch. “I missed you,” he whispered.

“Missed you, too, Curly.”

“I don’t think you know how much I missed you, though,” Sanji continued.

“I dunno,” Zoro said, “you just gave me a pretty good idea of how much you missed me.”

Sanji paused before responding, frowning. “I’m serious, you know.”

“Mm?”

“Yeah,” Sanji said. “I...had a lot of time to think while you were gone.”

“That so?”

Sanji nodded against Zoro’s chest. “Yeah, it is. And I think... I think you were right.”

“About what?” Zoro asked.

“It wouldn’t kill me to take a vacation.”

Zoro paused at Sanji’s admission. “Yeah?” he said, his voice soft with uncertainty.

Sanji wrapped his arm around Zoro’s torso, gently squeezing. They hadn’t talked about it in so long, but he remembered that nightmarish time when Zoro was convinced that Sanji didn’t value their relationship. It made his heart ache to think that he could potentially make Zoro feel that way again. “Yeah,” he said.

He continued, “I mean, I still don’t want to dump this all on Zeff. But I really gave it some thought, and it wouldn’t hurt me to have someone who can step up for me when I’m not around. Maybe even make the workload a little easier on me. I don’t know, the idea of it is still so new to me. But I want to make you happy. And if that means I need to find someone who can watch over the restaurant while you and I take a small trip together, then I’ll do it.”

Zoro tightened his hold on Sanji, saying nothing. Sanji returned his embrace with the same fervor, smiling against Zoro’s chest.

“It’s really not too much trouble, is it?” Zoro eventually asked.

“It really isn’t,” Sanji responded. He lifted his head off Zoro’s chest so he could properly look at him. “And I’m sorry for making you think that it was.”

“Come here,” Zoro whispered, having nothing else to say.

And Sanji did, closing the gap between their mouths.

#zosan #zoro #sanji #zosan fanfic #fanfic

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niseamstories · 3 years

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10 Lessons on Realistic Worldbuilding and Mapmaking I Learned Working With a Professional Cartographer and Geodesist

Hi, fellow writers and worldbuilders,

It’s been over a year since my post on realistic swordfighting, and I figured it’s time for another one. I’m guessing the topic is a little less “sexy”, but I’d find this useful as a writer, so here goes: 10 things I learned about realistic worldbuilding and mapmaking while writing my novel.

I’ve always been a sucker for pretty maps, so when I started on my novel, I hired an artist quite early to create a map for me. It was beautiful, but a few things always bothered me, even though I couldn’t put a finger on it. A year later, I met an old friend of mine, who currently does his Ph.D. in cartography and geodesy, the science of measuring the earth. When the conversation shifted to the novel, I showed him the map and asked for his opinion, and he (respectfully) pointed out that it has an awful lot of issues from a realism perspective.

First off, I’m aware that fiction is fiction, and it’s not always about realism; there are plenty of beautiful maps out there (and my old one was one of them) that are a bit fantastical and unrealistic, and that’s all right. Still, considering the lengths I went to ensure realism for other aspects of my worldbuilding, it felt weird to me to simply ignore these discrepancies. With a heavy heart, I scrapped the old map and started over, this time working in tandem with a professional artist, my cartographer friend, and a linguist. Six months later, I’m not only very happy with the new map, but I also learned a lot of things about geography and coherent worldbuilding, which made my universe a lot more realistic.

1) Realism Has an Effect: While there’s absolutely nothing wrong with creating an unrealistic world, realism does affect the plausibility of a world. Even if the vast majority of us probably know little about geography, our brains subconsciously notice discrepancies; we simply get this sense that something isn’t quite right, even if we don’t notice or can’t put our finger on it. In other words, if, for some miraculous reason, an evergreen forest borders on a desert in your novel, it will probably help immersion if you at least explain why this is, no matter how simple.

2) Climate Zones: According to my friend, a cardinal sin in fantasy maps are nonsensical climate zones. A single continent contains hot deserts, forests, and glaciers, and you can get through it all in a single day. This is particularly noticeable in video games, where this is often done to offer visual variety (Enderal, the game I wrote, is very guilty of this). If you aim for realism, run your worldbuilding by someone with a basic grasp of geography and geology, or at least try to match it to real-life examples.

3) Avoid Island Continent Worlds: Another issue that is quite common in fictional worlds is what I would call the “island continents”: a world that is made up of island-like continents surrounded by vast bodies of water. As lovely and romantic as the idea of those distant and secluded worlds may be, it’s deeply unrealistic. Unless your world was shaped by geological forces that differ substantially from Earth’s, it was probably at one point a single landmass that split up into fragmented landmasses separated by waters. Take a look at a proper map of our world: the vast majority of continents could theoretically be reached by foot and relatively manageable sea passages. If it weren’t so, countries such as Australia could have never been colonized – you can’t cross an entire ocean on a raft.

4) Logical City Placement: My novel is set in a Polynesian-inspired tropical archipelago; in the early drafts of the book and on my first map, Uunili, the nation’s capital, stretched along the entire western coast of the main island. This is absurd. Not only because this city would have been laughably big, but also because building a settlement along an unprotected coastline is the dumbest thing you could do considering it directly exposes it to storms, floods, and, in my case, monsoons. Unless there’s a logical reason to do otherwise, always place your coastal settlements in bays or fjords.

Naturally, this extends to city placement in general. If you want realism and coherence, don’t place a city in the middle of a godforsaken wasteland or a swamp just because it’s cool. There needs to be a reason. For example, the wasteland city could have started out as a mining town around a vast mineral deposit, and the swamp town might have a trading post along a vital trade route connecting two nations.

5) Realistic Settlement Sizes: As I’ve mentioned before, my capital Uunili originally extended across the entire western coast. Considering Uunili is roughly two thirds the size of Hawaii the old visuals would have made it twice the size of Mexico City. An easy way to avoid this is to draw the map using a scale and stick to it religiously. For my map, we decided to represent cities and townships with symbols alone.

6) Realistic Megacities: Uunili has a population of about 450,000 people. For a city in a Middle Ages-inspired era, this is humongous. While this isn’t an issue, per se (at its height, ancient Alexandria had a population of about 300,000), a city of that size creates its own set of challenges: you’ll need a complex sewage system (to minimize disease spreading like wildfire) and strong agriculture in the surrounding areas to keep the population fed. Also, only a small part of such a megacity would be enclosed within fantasy’s ever-so-present colossal city walls; the majority of citizens would probably concentrate in an enormous urban sprawl in the surrounding areas. To give you a pointer, with a population of about 50,000, Cologne was Germany’s biggest metropolis for most of the Middle Ages. I’ll say it again: it’s fine to disregard realism for coolness in this case, but at least taking these things into consideration will not only give your world more texture but might even provide you with some interesting plot points.

7) World Origin: This point can be summed up in a single question: why is your world the way it is? If your novel is set in an archipelago like mine is, are the islands of volcanic origin? Did they use to be a single landmass that got flooded with the years? Do the inhabitants of your country know about this? Were there any natural disasters to speak of? Yes, not all of this may be relevant to the story, and the story should take priority over lore, but just like with my previous point, it will make your world more immersive.

8) Maps: Think Purpose! Every map in history had a purpose. Before you start on your map, think about what yours might have been. Was it a map people actually used for navigation? If so, clarity should be paramount. This means little to no distracting ornamentation, a legible font, and a strict focus on relevant information. For example, a map used chiefly for military purposes would naturally highlight different information than a trade map. For my novel, we ultimately decided on a “show-off map” drawn for the Blue Island Coalition, a powerful political entity in the archipelago (depending on your world’s technology level, maps were actually scarce and valuable). Also, think about which technique your in-universe cartographer used to draw your in-universe map. Has copperplate engraving already been invented in your fictional universe? If not, your map shouldn’t use that aesthetic.

9) Maps: Less Is More. If a spot or an area on a map contains no relevant information, it can (and should) stay blank so that the reader’s attention naturally shifts to the critical information. Think of it this way: if your nav system tells you to follow a highway for 500 miles, that’s the information you’ll get, and not “in 100 meters, you’ll drive past a little petrol station on the left, and, oh, did I tell you about that accident that took place here ten years ago?” Traditional maps follow the same principle: if there’s a road leading a two day’s march through a desolate desert, a black line over a blank white ground is entirely sufficient to convey that information.

10) Settlement and Landmark Names: This point will be a bit of a tangent, but it’s still relevant. I worked with a linguist to create a fully functional language for my novel, and one of the things he criticized about my early drafts were the names of my cities. It’s embarrassing when I think about it now, but I really didn’t pay that much attention to how I named my cities; I wanted it to sound good, and that was it. Again: if realism is your goal, that’s a big mistake. Like Point 5, we went back to the drawing board and dove into the archipelago’s history and established naming conventions. In my novel, for example, the islands were inhabited by indigenes called the Makehu before the colonization four hundred years before the events of the story; as it’s usually the case, all settlements and islands had purely descriptive names back then. For example, the main island was called Uni e Li, which translates as “Mighty Hill,” a reference to the vast mountain ranges in the south and north; townships followed the same example (e.g., Tamakaha meaning “Coarse Sands”). When the colonizers arrived, they adopted the Makehu names and adapted them into their own language, changing the accented, long vowels to double vowels: Uni e Li became “Uunili,” Lehō e Āhe became “Lehowai.” Makehu townships kept their names; colonial cities got “English” monikers named after their geographical location, economic significance, or some other original story. Examples of this are Southport, a—you guessed it—port on the southernmost tip of Uunili, or Cale’s Hope, a settlement named after a businessman’s mining venture. It’s all details, and chances are that most readers won’t even pay attention, but I personally found that this added a lot of plausibility and immersion.

I could cover a lot more, but this post is already way too long, so I’ll leave it at that—if there’s enough interest, I’d be happy to make a part two. If not, well, maybe at least a couple of you got something useful out of this. If you’re looking for inspiration/references to show to your illustrator/cartographer, the David Rumsey archive is a treasure trove. Finally, for anyone who doesn’t know and might be interested, my novel is called Dreams of the Dying, and is a blends fantasy, mystery, and psychological horror set in the universe of Enderal, an indie RPG for which I wrote the story. It’s set in a Polynesian-inspired medieval world and has been described as Inception in a fantasy setting by reviewers.

Credit for the map belongs to Dominik Derow, who did the ornamentation, and my friend Fabian Müller, who created the map in QGIS and answered all my questions with divine patience. The linguist’s name is David Müller (no, they’re not related, and, yes, we Germans all have the same last names.)

#enderal #dreams of the dying #worldbuilding #resource #writeblr #writing tips #mapmaking #cartography #illustration #realism #writeblogging #novelwriting #writing research #research #writing

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zozophoenixxx · 3 years

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Serotonin Booster :D 🐉

How to train your dragon edition

Here are some things I had forgotten or little details I just noticed on my rewatch, maybe even Unpopular Opinions 🤭👀

✨Race to the Edge✨

SEASON 6

I love how the twins were basically the reason Hiccup figured out that Johan was the spy

NOOO THE WAY GOTHI WENT TO TRY AND STOP STOICK FROM THROWING AWAY HER MEDICINE AND THEN GOT THROWN OFF THE CLIFF WAS SO FUNNY [ep2]

Omg that fight between Hiccup and Stoick in ep2 was crazy whenever Stoick said "I'm talking to the expert in getting duped by Trader Johan" and THEN HICCUP WAS LIKE "but I was only duped for half as long as you were. So what does that make you?"

Awww the way both Toothless and Skull-crusher were trying to get them to talk

And also Astrid being the only one that wasn't caught by the Hunters right away, she's just superior bro

I love how both of them were right - Stoick was right to not trust the merchants and Hiccup was right about Johan's plan

Toothless is actually so strong like he's not only agile and clever, I mean he just flew up to the ballista and crashed against it and destroyed it without using his Plasma Blast 😎🤩

Mala and Dagur fighting over where the Dragon Eye lenses are gonna be hidden is hilarious. Mala is so calm I love it

I got chills when Atali was like "no, Hiccup, this is my island I will defend it"

I really want to know the origin of the Wingmaidens, like where did all these women come from? How come they're still there?

I love Minden and Snotlout's relationship, the way he tried to convince her to not give up AND SHE KISSED HIM!!!

Krogan's Singetail actually cares about him

Never gonna get over Adelaide Kane voicing Mala

Also Snotlout running when the dude had the razorwhip on him LIKE HE WAS LITERALLY FLYING AND HE WAS STILL RUNNING Y'ALL HAVE TO WATCH THAT SCENE I JUST DONT KNOW HOW TO DESCRIBE IT ITS IN EP3

Generations ago Fishlegs's ancestors were dragon hunters

The Loyal Order of Ingerman - decimated the Dramillion dragons, pushing them to the brink of extinction

Grump is amazing I love him

Dramillions - have both a lava blast and a magnesium blast. Omnivores. Still being hunted.

The Hunters were founded by Ingar Ingerman

The Dramillion trying to take the manacle off his tail🥺

And when Fishlegs threw his helmet and THEN THE HAND THING 😭🥺

I love the Dramillions they're so smart they learned how to get rid of the manacles by just looking at what Meatlug and Stormfly were doing 🥺

I just realized that the twins are 19 AND I FIND THAT ABSOLUTELY CRAZY HOW CAN THEY BE THAT OLD

I really wish we knew each of their birthdays like I wanna know which one's older and which one's younger

I feel like for some reason the twins would be the oldest ones then Fishlegs then Astrid then Snotlout and lastly Hiccup. Idk I'm still iffy on this

Most Thorstons don't make it to 19

I love the twins' relationship, they love each other so much that they would rather be alone and not form part of a clan than leave each other alone and the fact that other people know this too? Plsss like the only reason Gruffnut got them back into the fake induction trials was by telling them how bad it'd be for each other to not be part of a clan.

Titanwing Zippleback HOW DO THEY KNOW ITS A TITANWING IT LOOKS THE SAME AS THE OTHER ZIPPLEBACKS

"Ughh, what's the point of winning alone? Being a Thorston means nothing without him. We are one Thorston."

I love them and also technically Ruffnut won the induction trials.

THE LAST LENSE GOSH

Love how Fishlegs cares about global warming

I'm all Snotlout, Toothless and the Triple Stryke reacting to Mala and Dagur- I'm also Mala whenever someone tickles me I'LL KILL U

UGHHH I HATE HOW SNOTLOUT MADE HICCSTRID UNCOMFY FOR HAVING A DIFFERENT RELATIONSHIP

Astrid overthinking 🥺😭

"How would you like your yak cooked?" JSHDHHA

bro I love how both Tuff and Toothless noticed the betrothal necklace

"So want to deliver some scrap metal?" Hiccup baby? Why are you so oblivious?

At least he asked her if she was alright in the armorwing's island 😩

No but if I was Astrid I'd be pissed too, the dude saw a dragon eye lens from far way and didn't notice her betrothal necklace? 🙂😤

No I can't that scene was too harsh to watch, I mean I loved to see Hiccup noticing something was wrong with Astrid but then the way Astrid compared their relationship to Mala and Dagur's and then threw him the betrothal necklace... And the way he caught it too I can't- 😭😞😖😭😓🤧

Seeing the twins trying to capture Mala was hilarious JAHDHDHHSHA

I love how when they're fighting Astrid's still there for him whenever he's expected to have all the answers. She ignored her anger and went over to him and grabbed his hand and that single thing was what gave him confidence in a moment of panic 🥺

"I'm with you"

"I know"

That final Hiccstrid scene in Mi Amore Wing was just too perfect, we have Hiccup grabbing Astrid's hand to bring her outside and talk to her, the sunset in the background, every little thing Hiccup told her about being there for her and loving her with everything he had and that he should've noticed the necklace right away AND THEN THAT KISS WAS JUST AMAZING❗️❗️❗️ it was passionate and sweet and Astrid was blushing and then Fishlegs was all uncomfortable and Mala was like "okaaayyyyy😏" and Dagur like "alrighhtttt👌🏼" ig the only thing I didn't like is that Astrid didn't say I love you back 😭 but it's ok cause yk she does I just wished she had said it.

Baby razorwhips love the water

Tuffnut named the baby razorwhip that bonded with Ruffnut, Wingnutt

Top scenes of Ruff Transition ep7

Tuffnut throwing up in Ruffnut's mouth and Ruffnut throwing up in Wingnutt's mouth just do that he could be fed- seeing the windmaiden's reactions is the best lmao

Hiccup trying to teach Ruffnut how to fly (with his dragon flight suit) and then Ruffnut losing balance but Hiccup helping her regain it BUT we still get overprotective Tuffnut jumping off of Toothless to try and help but all he did was make things worse HIS SCREAM WAS HILARIOUS nonono and the way Toothless tried to help BUT AGAIN MADE THINGS WORSE 😩😮‍💨😂

Ruffnut finally figuring out how to connect with Wingnutt and fighting the dragon hunters and saving Atali was so badass and then Atali riding Barf 😭🤩

Hiccstrid kiss count (approximately) : 6😘

The way he slightly and carefully touches her face to reassure her that he'll be fine

The Singetail's only predator is the Skrill

The Berserkers used to use metal daggers to lure Skrills into traps. The dragon is drawn to it due to its electrical properties

VIGGO JUST DID THE HAND THING THING WITH THE SKRILL WTF

If I could have any dragon it'd be in this order

Skrill - it's so badass and powerful

Nightfury - it's badass, powerful, pretty, strong and fast

Deadly Nadder - it's extremely fast and agile, has multiple attacks and the spikes

Dramillion - has multiple attacks and is very smart

Just realized that ep8 is called Triple Cross because 1st Johan crossed Viggo 2nd Viggo fake crossed Hiccup and 3rd Viggo and Hiccup crossed Johan and Kogan

That episode was basically jusr to show Viggo's arc and the way he changed for the better and learned to respect dragons

That's why the Singetails wouldn't leave in ep9 whenever they were trying tp free the Deathsong- their eggs! They're in that island.

I can't with Hiccup and Astrid sitting together just chilling but with Astrid feeling guilty and Hiccup assuring her that he was also at fault 😭

I love Narrator/Author Snotlout! The titles of the chapters of his book remind me of the ones from Pjo

Stoick and Skullcrusher acting as 1 and being worried about each other 🥺 I love their relationship

Also the way Stoick bats off the shots from the Singetails with his axe just like Astrid. They're both truly warriors

No but Toothless asking for a head scratch from Gobber bc he's worried abt both Hiccup and Stoick🥺

The way Toothless tried to make Hiccup feel better- I mean the man blamed himself for putting Stoick in "his deathbed" it was just so awful seeing Hiccup in that state and the way everyone was trying to make him feel better but it was ultimately Astrid who managed to get through to him😭

I love it when they put scenes of the movies

I love how Astrid always knows what to say without lying

Looks like it's you and me, then.

Always... was that corny or-

Probably. Nice, though.

The way Astrid is so natural at being a leader and putting everyone on their places 🤩

That lil moment they had in ep12 where he holds her face and thanks her for everything and I just love them too much 😭

I love how Spitelout is so happy when he's beating ass, this dude literally goes "I'm sure I've had more fun than this. But at the moment, I can't remember when"

Have I mentioned I love the Dramillions before? I love them way too much they're amazing and the sound they make is so 😩 I love it

The Dramillion is a distant cousin of the Changewing which means the Titanwing Dramillion shares the de-cloaking ability with its subspecies.

Stormfly's spine clone was literally so badass, my girl was surrounded and she finished every single dragon flyer with it. Badass move. Wish we had seen it more throughout the series

It really pissed me off that Hiccup had to choose between getting Tuff, Ruff and Snotlout out of that sinking ship when he could've been following Krogan. Like ofc it was the right decision but that wouldn't have happened if the twins and Snotlout didn't follow Gruff into the ship :/

I love how strong Barf and Belch are! They literally carried the a Titanwing Dramillion on their own.

That scene when they figured out that the Titanwing Dramillion is not the King of Dragons but instead the last piece of the puzzle to get to the King of Dragons

When the Wingmaidens got to the battle it was amazing

Also the way Dagur was so proud that the King of Dragons was a Berserker and how Ruff was so excited to see Wingnutt and Snotlout to see Minden🥺

THEY REALIZED THAT BBYS AREN'T AFFECTED BY THE KING OF DRAGONS BC OF THE BABY RAZORWHIPS

that last Hiccstrid Scene where Hiccup is worried about Astrid's safety- I mean his face 🥺🥺🥺 and she told him that his dad would be proud and that she's proud too and when she was about to leave he held her back and kissed her 😭😭

Ik I said this before but I simp for Astrid as a leader, she's just so natural at it

Also I love how the King of Dragons has ice powers instead of fire

WAIT SO IS THE EGG THAT HICCUP FINDS IN THE FINALE THAT THEY GIVE TO VALKA IS THAT THE KING OF DRAGONS THAT VALKA CARES FOR IN HTTYD2?!!

Valka being friends with the Wingmaidens sits absoluteky right with me

no but the way Toothless hesitated when Hiccup told him to leave him and get the egg

I love how all the dragons arrived to fight the dragon flyers, it was just so poetical to me, the dragons finally getting to fight the people that hurt them 🤩

I FINISHED IT AND NOW I'M SAD!!! I loved the end tho and I'm glad we got to see Shattermaster at Dagur's wedding, also Astrid's outfit change- we love that. And them leaving the edge is just so sad bro 😭but I love how we got to see some "insight" ig u could call it on HTTYD2 😭 also seeing Snotlout and Fishlegs's love for Ruffnut start forming was hilarious

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tealin · 3 years

Text

Cape Crozier: The Spiritual Journey

As usual, please check out http://twirlynoodle.com/blog to see this post and others in their original (functioning) formatting.

Since getting seriously into polar history, I kept hearing the same two things from polar veterans. One was that I could not possibly understand the story properly, or be able to depict it truthfully, unless I visited Antarctica myself. The other was that Antarctica changes people. This was unanimous amongst scientists, historians, and even tourists: one cannot help but be profoundly affected by contact with Antarctica; that is just a fact of the place.

I have certainly been changed by Antarctica indirectly. The inner kernel of “me” is the same in my earliest memories as now, but the Terra Nova men and their experiences have fundamentally shifted how that kernel views and relates to the world and the people around me. I am a vastly better person for their influence, and that is a large part of why I have been so dogged in getting their story to a new audience: the hope that, through my work, even one other person might be changed in the same way.

When I finally got the chance to visit Antarctica in person, I had half an eye out for signs something had happened. Two weeks into my visit, I had learned a lot and had some meaningful experiences, but I couldn't say I had changed at all. Maybe that initial action-at-a-distance was the change I had been promised after all.

Then I went to Cape Crozier.

As we have spread around the planet, humans have noted certain places as being special in some way, places of some sort of power, or where the spirit world is a little more tangible. The Celts called these 'thin places', where the fabric of reality is threadbare, and Something Else comes a little closer. One can have a 'thin' experience anywhere, but certain places seem to encourage them. They may remain completely unmarked, or may become loci for centuries of pilgrimage, or anything in between, but they exist in some form in every culture except, perhaps, the post-Enlightenment intellectual West.

Antarctica, generally, feels like where the edge of a painting dissolves into brushstrokes. There is a certain unreality baked-in: the sun wheels around the sky without setting, one can count on one hand the species of life regularly seen, and everything – the landscape, the weather, the distances – is so vastly out of proportion to puny humanity. One could argue that this 'unfinished' feeling is because so much of it is white, but I have travelled through many snow-covered landscapes, and they feel like landscapes covered in snow, not fundamentally blank places with a few suggestive details dropped in by an artist whose main attention was elsewhere.

Cape Crozier was something else entirely, though. It is, of course, hanging off the edge of Ross Island, but it felt more like it was hanging off the edge of reality itself. It is a thin place par excellence. And I had an experience there which I have been trying to process since landing back at McMurdo. When I tried to discuss it with friends, my ability to speak quite simply stopped. Then the pandemic, and the new house, and pushing through Vol.1, all rose up and drove it to the back of my mind. In February I wasn't ready to talk about it; here in October, I worry it's too late. But I feel compelled to share what happened there, and if I don't do it now, I don't know if I ever will.

If this were a novel, at Cape Crozier I would have felt the thinness of time, and a closer connection to the dead men I had followed there – perhaps almost to believe they weren't dead at all! In such a place, that didn't seem impossible. But that is not what happened. Nor did I have some sort of enlightenment beamed into my head from the heavens. Even the word 'happened' is too suggestive of some sort of discrete external event. If you had asked me, there, at the time, I'd have said I was just sitting there thinking. But I sit thinking a lot in life, and this was not the sort of thinking I am used to. It was more like a revelation. Not in the trumpets and angels sense, but in a literal one: layers of clutter and gloss were pulled back to reveal a simple underlying truth. It was, in essence, a dose of perspective, a view from high and far enough away to see the big picture, and not the surface detail. As I sat at the base of a boulder, gazing at the stone igloo and gawking at how completely insane were the men who dragged their sledges to this desolate nowhere to build it, I suddenly saw my life as it appeared in the Author's notes.

Ever since first getting the inkling that this story would make a good graphic novel, it has felt like a calling. I said 'no' to the calling for years – some sort of cosmic wrong number – but when I finally said 'yes' everything started falling into place. That is supposed to be a good sign, for a calling. And I was happy following it, though it wasn't easy or comfortable. As far as I could deduce, under my own power, it seemed like what I ought to be doing. That is not to say there weren't doubts, especially in the grey light of a winter morning when I would lie in my rented bed, looking at my desk and wondering what on earth I was doing with my life. And I was not untroubled by other concerns: Shouldn't I be more helpful to my family? Why have I been persistently unable to find a tribe, or a relationship? Will I be allowed to stay in the UK? Can I do this work and keep myself fed and housed?

Here, on a wind-scoured ridge on the edge of nowhere, reflecting on its history of unbelievable and, it could be argued, pointless hardship, one might expect to realise the folly of one's ways, and to swear off quixotic enterprises in favour of the hitherto unappreciated quotidian stuff that really matters. But that is not what happened. Instead, I got this dose of clarity:

I am here to tell this story. Not here, at Cape Crozier, in this instant (although that too), but here, on this planet, as a human being. This is what I am for.

Whatever I need to make it happen will be provided. No less, and no more.

Everything else? Tangential. Not worth worrying about. What needs to happen, will happen, and if it doesn't happen, it didn't need to. And that's OK.

All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.

When I was young, we had a puzzle of the United States of America. It was made of Masonite, and the pieces were cut out in the shapes of the states, which would be assembled to fill the recessed outline of the country. Because they were geographical shapes and not interlocking jigsaw pieces, they would slide and rattle around until the last one got wedged in and locked everything else in place.

Most of my life, I have felt like that rattly puzzle. I didn't realise it because I had never known there was another way to be. But there under the boulder it felt like that last piece had been dropped in, that secured all the loose ones. It was not that Cape Crozier was my missing piece and now that I had it I was complete – that is far too literal. The missing piece was a something that wasn't even a thing; rather, in that moment of clarity, I felt all the jangling bits come to rest, and a wholly unfamiliar solidity. At last the clay wobbling around the potter's wheel had been centred, and I felt a metaphysical ground beneath my metaphysical feet that I had not known it was possible to feel.

Ironically, the rest of the day I felt like I wasn't touching the actual ground at all, perhaps because what I was anchored to was on another plane entirely. The stumbling shamble through the wind back to the helicopter might as well have been happening to someone else. We took off into the gale, and though the pilot acted as though it was perfectly ordinary, when we were rounding the ridge he said 'wow, that's the rotor all the way to the left' which I didn't understand but didn't sound great. Nevertheless the sense of peace persisted, and I understood how, in his last letter to his wife, which he knew would be his last, Wilson could have kept insisting 'all is well.' (I knew why he wrote that: he had read Julian of Norwich. But now I understood why.)

The journey back was a transcendence all of its own, the beauty of which seemed to be a perfectly natural outward manifestation of that altered state. We touched down in time for me to make it to the Galley just as it opened for dinner, so we couldn't have been gone two whole hours, and that seemed absurd to me – surely I had sat under that boulder for two hours at least? Or had we only been at the igloo ten minutes? It was impossible to tell.

What I wanted more than anything was to go up a mountain and ponder the whole thing, alone, until it sorted itself out and I was ready to come back down again. I could have gone up Observation Hill, but the weather looked liable to turn into a proper blizzard at any moment. So, lacking a better option, I went to go eat, and, after having a chuckle at the Cherry Turnovers, slunk to the back where I could usually count on having a small wallflower table to myself, especially this early. But one of the larger tables was full of young dudes talking about bar fights they'd been involved in, and I just … couldn't. So I wandered into the main area and discovered the One Strange Rock crew having an early dinner as well, begged a spot at their table, and ate swaddled in friendly natter instead of at one with the universe in a blizzard. It amounted to much the same thing.

Eventually one of them said, 'You went to Cape Crozier today, didn't you? How was that?'

I made an exploding gesture around my head and said 'Pkhhhh.'

Cherry wrote that the Winter Journey 'had beggared our language'. I am sure that my inarticulate gesture is not what he meant. But at the same time, in fact at that very dinner, I realised something about his writing. The Winter Journey chapter is unanimously regarded as the finest part of The Worst Journey in the World. Some people question that this otherwise unremarkable country gent, who never produced another book, could have written with such profound and expressive talent, and they posit that his friend and neighbour George Bernard Shaw, who definitely did consult on the book, must have ghostwritten it. I have read enough of Cherry's writing – in his own hand – to know this is bosh; the voice and the style are distinctly his. What's more, I was surprised to discover, when going through his journals, that a large portion of the Winter Journey chapter was not written last, despite it being the last to join the manuscript of Worst Journey, but was in fact written in his bunk at Cape Evans while he was recuperating from the experience. In the published book, he singles out some passages as being from 'my own diary' but great tracts of unattributed narration are more or less verbatim quotations as well. The experience related therein feels so immediate because it was.

The rest of Worst Journey, while perfectly readable, is largely a narrative rewrite of Cherry's and others' diaries. Sometimes he lets others carry the story for pages at a time. His writing is undeniably good, but is often simply mortar, filling gaps and binding sources together to tell a history that no human invention could better. The Winter Journey chapter, on the other hand, reads like a torrent of pure inspiration pouring through him onto the page. That such vivid, timeless prose should have come from an exhausted 25-year-old in his bunk in a wooden hut is no less remarkable than from a jaded 35-year-old in the library of his country house.

Artists of all stripes will often say that their best work is not their own creation, but feels like it already existed and came through them from somewhere else. It's as if there's a great Beyond where things that need to come into the world – stories, images, performances – queue up for passage through artists' minds and bodies. Sometimes one taps into it by luck; usually it's a combination of training and discipline that makes the link traversable, from time to time. Perhaps artists' minds are their own thin places, in a way. Sitting there at dinner with my friends, I felt as though I'd brushed against the fabric between this reality and that Beyond, and, like touching the wall of a tent in a rainstorm, broken the surface tension and allowed something through. I felt like, if I just put pencil to paper, something could flow through me, if only I could narrow down a subject. With the intensity of his experience, Cherry did not so much brush against the wet tent fabric as punch a hole through it; feeling just a small inkling of that myself, it was no wonder that the creative energy poured into his diary with such intuitive eloquence.

Had I sat down to write this that night, perhaps I could have tapped into that flow, but I didn't feel I was ready. I can guarantee you that right now I am not tapped into anything but a vague and dwindling recollection. As vast as the experience was, by putting a box of words around it, I cannot help but reduce it to the confines of the box. But that is the best I can do under my own power.

Compared to the seismic transformation of character brought about by my first vicarious encounter with Antarctica, the insight at Cape Crozier was very small and personal, but once in place, the ramifications have been substantial. When I arrived back home, just before Christmas, the world was still as it ever was, but I was different, and I noticed how differently I related to everything. Things I loved about Cambridge, which previously made me desperate to stay, I appreciated no less, but valued instead as something I had the honour to enjoy for a while, and didn't need to hold on to. A young-adults group which I'd hung around, formerly a precious simulacrum of a social life, now felt hollow, and I abandoned it in favour of time spent one-on-one with the handful of people who I really appreciated. They all said I seemed different; one person said I seemed 'sad', but I think I had just taken the mask off the seriousness which tends to frighten people. I have never been afraid to be myself, but in recent years have tried to mitigate that self in relation to others; there seemed no point to that, now. It was as if my inner gyroscope had finally started spinning, and I had a sense of balance and orientation that I hadn't before.

Holding on to the clarity of that moment, and the centredness it brought me, has not been easy. It didn't keep me from panicking when my housemate excoriated me back in March. It didn't focus my mind on my work as soon as I'd moved into the new place, or save me from getting angry and frustrated when battling my tax returns. Sometimes it's very hard to remember at all. But I know what happened, and I can remember remembering, even if I can't recapture the feeling itself. Sometimes, when it's very windy, I seek out a high open place in the hope of feeling it again, but it hasn't worked. Maybe it doesn't need to. Having it once was all I really needed, and even if I succeeded in flicking those switches again, what good would it do that hasn't already been done?

I could not foresee, on that windswept ridge on the edge of reality, where the world would be in 2020. In wry moments I think I was only a few months ahead of a large portion of humanity, who have been forced to sort things out when the pandemic stripped away their preoccupations and illusions. Maybe you are one of them, and you recognise some of what I've described. Maybe you feel like you've been running away from it. Maybe you have been running towards it but have been unable to find it. All I can tell you is: it's worth the seeking.

I wish everyone in the world could visit Antarctica, even just once, and see how it changes them. The world would be such a better place. I am so profoundly grateful that I had the chance, and am determined to pay it forward by bringing some shred of that experience to as many people as possible. If my communication fails to bridge that gap for you, then take it upon yourself to find your own thin place. They are all around. It only requires that you be receptive, and undertake to look.

#antarctica #travel #spirituality #purpose #mountaintop moment #cape crozier #epiphany

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bigfan-fanfic · 3 years

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Who is Batdad closest to outside Wayne manor? Does he have much of a life outside of the Wayne's? Who would Batdad consider his closest friends besides his family?

Honestly, Batdad doesn’t have much of a life outside of the Waynes. He doesn’t really have anyone other than the League to talk to. Clark would probably be his closest friend outside of his family because in a lot of ways they are similar.

Okay, let me talk about this. ( I came back up and decided to answer more concisely above and put this under a read more because it’s very, very long, and I cried three times while writing it and I have never had any visceral reaction to what I write ever before... oof. Just be warned if you ever feel anxiety or pressure that basically, that’s what follows)

Batdad basically denies his own wants and dreams because he wants to help Bruce. What this means is that no matter what Batdad wanted to be before (maybe he and Bruce were dating and he confessed his desire to be a writer and Bruce allowed himself the fantasy and said they’d buy an island somewhere, and Bruce would lounge on the beach and supply Batdad in kisses while he writes the best book ever), by the time Bruce gets back to Gotham from his training, Batdad has had to become what Bruce would have been if Thomas and Martha were there.

He’s a public figure and philanthropist, carrying the legacies of Martha and Thomas on his shoulders. He has to keep Martha’s business running - no, not just running, thriving - and deal with corrupt officials, corporate espionage, and greedy businesspeople all but threatening him to take Wayne Enterprises public so they can trade stock, all while making sure Thomas’ charities are well-funded and the money is actually going where it should (see earlier greed, corporate and personal). This is all while having to attend galas and functions and fundraisers and events or risk pissing off any one of these people who can turn his life into hell - missing one event can lead to being blacklisted and then that means nobody goes to a charity gala, which means that there’s no hospital built for those in the Narrows.

All this and also consider that everybody in high society sneers at you because the only reason you’re there is because you’re engaged to Bruce and you lived with him ever since Martha and Thomas died. You’re besieged on all sides, because the snobs hate you, the press wonders if you’re even qualified to run a business, and there’s always envy and hatred from below because why aren’t you doing MORE to help them? You haven’t been trained in this - your parents were upper-middle-class at best; you met Bruce by chance, so it’s just you and Alfred and this crushing, all-consuming PRESSURE and the fact that none of it is enough, you aren’t doing enough, it’ll never be enough.

Oh, and at this point, you’re probably only in your mid-twenties at the latest. And it only gets harder because Bruce is back and crime fighting and now you have to worry about him dying on patrol, so every night you’re there to assist him (sleep? don’t know her) and patch him up and support him every day even though he pretends a little too well to be a drunken boor and a cheating asshole (sometimes he isn’t even pretending) and help him when he gets frustrated and then you adopt a kid after your first day off in years (day off, what’s a day off, you haven’t slept enough since you were eighteen and Bruce left you and Batman came back but you haven’t said a word about it) and now there’s school and making sure Dick eats enough and is happy and doing good and doesn’t get overworked on patrol and stressing on whether or not Dick is okay whenever he leaves the Manor and again, none of it is ever enough.

You feel like you’re in your fifties by the time you hit thirty and the Justice League forms and that means SO much more work not just physically but emotionally because Bruce can’t meet anyone new without determining a thousand different ways to kill them if necessary (except for Talia, apparently. And Selina. And Silver Freaking St. Cloud. And Julie Morrison. And any number of dalliances Bruce has had because somehow they’re all smarter. or stronger, or maybe he just has a weakness for tall women who don’t take his crap. Is that what you do? Is your loyalty and consistency and unconditional love actually what lets Bruce walk away so often to a woman’s bed? Is it because he knows you will still be there? Is it because you have put so much of yourself into this life, into your children, into the Wayne Legacy of Perfection and Excellence that it would kill you to leave? Is it because you’re just another tool to him, one that will be quickly replaced when you succumb to sleep-deprivation, or that thing you’ve heard about in the news where people are dying from overwork so often the Japanese have a name for it, or the fact that you’re doing the work of ten, no, twenty people and not once have you ever complained to Bruce or begged him like any reasonable person would to stop this vigilante nonsense and actually LIVE), but now you have to coordinate meetings and a thousand different secret identities and make sure everything’s kosher and nobody’s fighting and of course Bruce has a beef with the nicest freaking guy in the League and Clark keeps coming to you to see if you can help them work it out.

Oh, and then there’s Talia, aka the thorn in your existence and her child who literally has tried to murder you for the crime of being married to Bruce years before he had even heard of Talia, and now on top of all the above, you have to balance getting to know the kid and be reminded day in and day out by him that you aren’t enough, that Talia has such a deeper connection to Bruce, that you are an obstacle to his happiness, that she’s so much smarter and stronger than you, that you are weak and everything you touch becomes weak and tainted by you. And not to mention that you still aren’t doing enough because Gotham’s underprivileged are screaming in pain from everything they deal with and at least you are fed and clothed and you have a family you can support and you are rich and you need to be doing MORE.

And nobody else in the League can even come close to understanding you because wow, you do so much, do you ever take a break? You come this close to crying when Oliver remarks that if he had to do that much work, he’d go back to the island he was stranded on for five years because he’s joking. For anyone else your life would be a living hell and he’s joking. How do you do so much; do you ever sleep; hah, Bruce, your husband is showing you up! And this is when they even acknowledge you, and you feel like a major-league prick for even thinking these thoughts because Bruce and the League put their lives on the line every day (oh god they’re always in danger and the stress of losing your boys - which has happened to you already - and Bruce and your friends who are the only ones you can ever actually talk to without worrying that you’ll give away someone’s identity) and you’re complaining about a little bit of paperwork? You get to go to parties and meetings while your husband fights to save lives and you’re complaining? How selfish are you? All you do, everything you do, it isn’t enough, it’s never enough, there’s always MORE MORE MORE and it never ever stops.

Jason is dead, Jason comes back, Dick is beaten within an inch of his life, the Joker kidnaps Tim and you are hanging by a thread because the last time the Joker took one of your kids and you couldn’t find them meant that there was an empty bed and too many memories but no time to grieve because Bruce threw himself into work without a care and you needed to do even MORE because you can’t lose him too. And even the League was supposed to help with this but it doesn’t because you can’t bear to lose anyone, because they’re family and not only that, the world has gotten careless because the supers will save them and crime is actually going UP somehow and if even one of the League dies, a city could be overrun by now because the police and government are all but useless and the skies are filled with supervillains and the only thing stopping the world from falling into utter disrepair is the League, and thus you. And through all of this you have to be doing better, have to be doing MORE because every new thing means all the rest of your work becomes that much harder and you haven’t slept properly in a decade now and you feel ancient but still, you can’t complain, you haven’t earned the right to complain because you are never hungry and you never go without and there are so many people who need your help and charities that depend on you to function and kids that need fatherly advice and affection and a League that needs managing and you don’t have time for a breakdown because if you’re gone for too long everything collapses and everyone you love suffers and forget about therapy because who the FUCK could you ever talk to about any of this without either revealing a hundred secret identities and putting everything at risk or sound like a whiny crybaby?

Selina and Talia are back and hovering around your husband again and they flirt with him like you don’t exist and it’s not his fault and you love him but you see Talia every day in Damian’s voice and manner and don’t even think about talking to Bruce about his infidelity because he has so many more important things to worry about and he’s already apologized profusely and anything else makes you feel selfish and you HAVEN’T SLEPT in what feels like all your life and every moment not filled with work is filled with stress about work and worry because every time you don’t see your boys is a moment they can be dead and you don’t know it and every moment Bruce isn’t at the Watchtower is another moment Lex Luthor has to enact some horrifiying plan or the Joker gets ahold of a nuclear weapon or something else unforseeably terrible happens and it is TOO MUCH but you still need to be doing MORE because it isn’t enough and you aren’t enough and nothing is ever enough.

Is there even a you anymore? There used to be a kid there who just wanted to help his friend when he lost his parents. A kid who got left behind to stay with that friend. A teenager with dreams and hopes and wishes and a sweet boyfriend who could maybe get past his grief and lead a good life with you. A young man with the chance to stop his lover from leaving, to stay with him and not give in. Where did he go? Is he still there, underneath the years? Or is he gone, and this being made of stress and fear and feelings of inadequacy and stifled complaints and sadness gone unsaid and trauma left to fester all that you are? That kid you once were gets further and further away with everything you do to help, every time you keep silent because what good would it do to scream the way you want to, the way you’ve needed to for so many years but never let yourself?

And yes, your boys and your husband make it better, make it worthwhile, but it remains that you feel old, you’ve been tired since you were still 19. Your days are consumed with stress and your nights are filled with fear. And you can never say this now because it has been years, and you’ve lost that chance. The guilt would throw Bruce off his game and if he’s off his game, he could die and all of this would be for nothing. Quite against your will, you’ve been trapped in a no-win situation, and even death is no escape because you know that without you, it all comes crashing down and game over. You are Atlas, holding up the world and knowing that you have just enough strength to hold it up for eternity. And no one will release you from your prison.

But you have to endure it, and smile while you do so because if Bruce ever knew (or if he even cared to look), it’d all go falling down. You are the support, and the support’s support, but no one ever thinks that you might need assistance. What do you have going on? Being a dad? Working? Attending parties? It isn’t enough and you know it isn’t enough and everybody knows that it isn’t enough and they always, always need MORE.

I wonder now how Batdad does it. How he doesn’t break down crying. And part of that is because he is fictional, and I never thought about what it would be like to go through that level of pressure every day of your life. I hope someday Bruce comes to his senses. That even if he doesn’t let go of his grief, maybe he stops being Batman. And stops training Robins. Because yes, he gave them a home, but he manipulated them into being what he is. Who knows what good Dick could have done if he had just been Bruce’s adopted son. Maybe a philanthropist. Maybe he just would’ve had a happy life instead of one where he could die every day. Where he constantly has to reopen the wound of his parents’ deaths to convince him to keep at it. I want them to realize that they don’t have to, anymore.

But they won’t. Because they aren’t real. And they exist for our entertainment. And because we’ll keep reading the comics and watching the movies and playing the games, Bruce will always be Batman and never come to terms with his parents’ deaths in a healthy way and there will always be more threats to existence and even just to him personally.

And Batdad too, is trapped.

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draco-kasai · 3 years

Text

Hero Collaboration Program

Summery: High School Hero Collaboration Program! Helping Sophomore hero students connect with others around the world! Come join us for a two-week-long trip to one of our schools for an amazing once in a lifetime experience with students of Yuuei! Only a lucky 40 students will be selected for this program. They will be split into two groups of 20 and sent to different schools to have completely unique experiences!

A/N: AKA, A very ambitious fanfic I started because even though I have another fanfic in progress my brain decided to give me an idea and I just had to do it. These are all characters I adore and I even did lots of research on them to hopefuly get them down right. I also too many backstories and threw them into a meat grinder to remold them in a way that would make them fit into this universe.

I love Class 1-A, but like they need to be taken down a peg or two, and I want to see them get their asses handed to them.

Ch. 1 part 3 of 3 Program Sign-Ups

Chapter 1 pt 1 --> Chapter 1 pt 2 --> -Chapter 2-

“Hola mama.” a teen smiled softly at the woman behind the desk. His brown hair, that almost looked a reddish orange in the light, was a curly mess, almost hiding his two round, striped ears.

The older woman looked away from the computer screen she had been typing at to smile at her son, “Manny, Hola mijito. What brings you to the library? A project?”

“Um, no, not really…” brown eyes glanced over to one of the bookshelves. A girl with shoulder-length blue hair, and red goggles, gave him two thumbs up, a large grin on her lips before she left. Looking back at his mother, Manny spoke, “I, uh, wanted to know if you’d let me sign up for the Hero Collaboration Program!”

His mother tilted her head to the side in confusion, “Hero Collaboration Program?”

“Uh, yeah, It’s this whole program for first year hero students in preparatoria.” Manny began to explain as his mother turned to attend someone who wanted to check out a book, “Basically we go on a two-week-long trip to California, and meet and work with other kids from around the world. We’re going to be working with students from a specific school in Japan. Frida and I want to sign up as a team!”

“That’s very nice and all Manny but… well, why are you asking me?” His mother asked as she waved goodbye to the student.

“What do you mean?”

“Well… It’s just… you don’t usually ask me for permission with aanything since we don't... live together, you usually just go to your father or grandpapi. Never me…” Maria frowned, a hand fiddling with a hoop earring.

Manny let out a soft sigh as he ruffled his hair, “Well, yeah, but papa and -.... He would obviously say ‘yes’ and I wanted your opinion. I mean… I don’t see you as often as it is, and being with dad is great and all, but… you're my mom.”

Maria placed a hand over her heart, face full of concern, “Manny… ” Pausing, she looked around for a moment. Telling her son to wait, she walked off to speak to someone before coming back and grabbing her bag. Taking her son’s hand, she led them out of the library and over to a park. Sitting them both down at a bench, the older woman began to speak, “Now then… Is everything alright, baby?”

Brown eyes widened in surprise at his mother's question, “W - what do you mean?”

Maria let out a soft huff, “Manny, I may not be around often, but I can tell something is bothering you. I don’t think it’s my permission you were worried about.” her son let out a heavy sigh.

"Well… it's just that, ever since I decided to join the hero classes when we started preparatoria things at home have been… tense. Like grandpa has been distant and dad has been doting all over me more. Even training at home isn't even fun anymore! It’s so suffocating to even be home anymore! I’ve had to stay over Frida’s house a few times cause I just can’t take it!"

“The Suarez’s are letting you stay over?”

“Yeah, Mr Emiliano doesn’t really know what’s going on, but I think he has an idea… he’s been trying to be nicer to me...”

“When did this happen?”

“Um… Like a while ago? Uh, sometime in September?”

Maria frowns at this news. The fact that her son doesn’t feel comfortable at home anymore is worrying. Not just that, but he didn’t even come to her when this all started. Biting her lip, she asked, “Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”

Manny lowered his head, avoiding eye contact, “I didn’t want to bother you with my problems. I probably wouldn’t even have told Frida if she hadn’t been there when I announced my intentions for becoming a hero to them.”

His mother’s frown only deepened at this. He should know that he wouldn’t be a bother to her. No, not her son, never her son. She thought they were closer than that. “... Have you spoken to them about it?”

“...No… Whenever I try bringing it up, they just… brush it off or get distracted with something else. Besides, what am I even supposed to say to them?”

His mother bit her lower lip in thought. Her hand wandered up to gently pet her son’s head, eliciting a soft purr from him. She hasn’t been there enough for her son. Leaving her husband was difficult, but leaving Manny had been the hardest part. She would have taken him with her, but not even she was sure if her Mariachi band would do well, and they didn’t either till they finally caught a break. Once things for her had become more secure, she wanted to have Manny travel with her, to see the world, but he was already happy with his father and his best friend. She couldn't take that from him. Seeing him once a month was enough for her.

“Do you want to stay with me for a while?” She blinked in surprise at the sudden question that left her lips. Looking down, she could see the shock in her son’s face. He obviously wasn’t expecting the question either, “I mean… You can stay until you know what to say to your father and grandpa or… if you want, you could… can stay as long as you like.”

Manny stared up at his mother. He remained silent for a moment before he spoke, “Is… is that okay?”

“Of course it is, mijo. I have a spare guest room. You are always welcome. My door is always open for you, no matter what.” Many smiled weakly and hugged his mother.

“Gracias mama.” He mumbled softly into his mother's shoulder. The two sat like that for a while till Maria finally pulled away.

“Now then, let’s go get your things from the house, yeah?” She smiled softly as she whipped the stray tears from her son’s freckled cheeks. With a nod, they both got to their feet and began walking.

“So, did you really want my permission for the program?”

“Yeah, I wanted an unbiased opinion.”

“Well, I think you should go. Consider it a vacation.” She ruffled her son’s hair, “Will your girlfriend be joining you?”

“Yeah! We stopped by her dad’s work during our last recess. He was pretty okay with it. She may not be becoming a cop like the rest of her family, but they’re still pretty proud of her.” Manny grinned, “Frida and I are really excited about this!”

“I’m glad.” Maria found herself grinning as well.

Frida Suarez. Age 16. Seat 4. Student Rank 13. Hero Name: Rockster. Quirk: Quirkless.

Karate, Hand to Hand, parkour

Manuel Pablo Gutierrez O’Brien Equihua Rivera. Age 16. Seat 5. Student Rank 17. Hero Name: El Tigre. Quirk: Tigre

Has striped ears, tail and fangs. Has stripes going down his arms, legs and back just like a Tiger. Roar can temporarily paralyze anyone in range. When angry, his eyes turn green, making him lose control to instincts.

Agile, hand to hand, night vision, sensitive hearing

_______

“Good morning” A slim girl with slick waist long black hair mumbled as she walked into the kitchen.

“Oh, hey honey, you’re just on time. I made pancakes.” A large, buff man with blond hair placed another pancake on a plate.

“Good morning, Violet.” The girl's mother greeted from across the island as she fed the baby.

“Morning guys,” She ruffles her baby brother's hair, “morning Jack Jack.” The toddler let out a fit of giggles as he clapped his hands together.

“Where’s your brother? I don’t want him rushing through breakfast again.” The girl's mother looked around as she spoke. Violet shrugs her shoulders as she sits in her seat on the island and gratefully takes the plate of pancakes her father offered her.

“Probably still in the shower.” She responded, pouring syrup on her breakfast, “Uh, hey mom… did…did you look at that packet I gave you yesterday?”

“Packet?” Her father cocked up an eyebrow as he set down a plate for his son and wife, “What packet?”

“Bob, I talked to you about it last night.” His wife rolled her eyes fondly, cleaning her son's face, she nodded, “I did, I think you should apply.”

“Really?” Violet perked up, food in her mouth.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full.” Bob set down his own plate and took a seat at the island, “Last night? Oh, you mean the exchange program, right? Yeah, I don’t see why not, sweetie.”

“Ooo! Pancakes!” A younger blond shouted followed by a small gush of wind, the boy suddenly appearing in his seat.

“Dash, no running in the house.” His mother reprimanded, earning a soft sorry.

“Really? I can apply? Yes! Oh my gosh!” Violet cheers, happily wiggling in her seat.

“Apply for what? What did I miss?” drowning his pancakes in syrup, Dash glances at everyone.

“Your sister is going to be applying for a two-week hero program. She’ll be interacting and training with other hero hopefuls from across the country and other places of the world.” His mother explained. Jack Jack squealed from next to her and clapped his hands together.

“Whoa, cooool! You’ve got to tell me how it goes! That sounds awesome! I want to sign up too!” Dash bounces in his seat

“Well, you’ve got to wait till you’re a sophomore in high school since it’s a sophomore only program.” Violet explained as she waved around her fork. Her younger brother pouted at this.

“Don’t worry, Dash, you can apply when you get to 10th grade too.” His father's reassurance made the boy grin, “Now eat up kids, It’s my turn to take you all to school.”

Violet Parr. Age 15. Seat 14. Student Rank 14 Hero Name: Violet. Quirk: Flyrogensis

Can create force fields to protect herself or use in battle. Is able to generate fields to throw or break through solid objects.

Hand to hand, stealth

_____

“Good morning Rudy!” A short, plump woman greeted her son happily, placing down a plate of eggs, home styled fries and wheat toast. On the table across sat a tall, scrawny man already eating happily.

“Good morning kiddo!” he greeted with a wave.

“Morning ma, morning pop.” Rudy smiled, sitting himself down at the table.

“Did you ever make your decision on that program you told us about a few days ago, sweetie?” Millie asked, finally sitting down to enjoy her own breakfast.

“Oh that’s right! That hero thing, right?” His father, Joe, turned his full attention to his son.

“Oh, yeah, actually I did. I decided to go ahead and apply.” Rudy’s green eyes looked away from his parents and picked at his food, “I uh, I still want to become an artist but… I also really like helping people. There’s a bunch of heroes out there that have more than one job and I thought, maybe, I could do that too.”

“Oh baby, of course you can!” Millie placed a hand over her son’s, prompting his eyes to look up to meet hers, “I work as an advice column writer and even do opera, all while keeping the house spotless and putting food on the table! If you want to do more than one thing, go for it.” She gave her son a smile that he graciously returned.

“I’m so proud of you, son!” His father grinned widely, giving him a hair ruffle, “You’re growing up to be such the creative young man! And I'm not just saying that because of the nature of your quirk!”

Rudy laughed as he swatted his father's hand away, “Stop it, pop” The laughter only grew as Joe drew his son closer to give him a noogie.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough now. No messing around at the table.” Millie lectured, a small smile still on her lips. Both father and son broke apart, shooting small apologies.

Rudy Tabootie. Age 16. Seat 18 Student Rank 15. Hero Name: Snap. Quirk: Chalk Art

Anything he draws with chalk becomes real or animated. Somehow he can defy all laws of physics and draw what he needs in the air in 2D, and it becomes 3D. His only limit is his imagination.

Hand to hand

____

“I’m heading out now!” A teenage boy called into his house as he stepped out.

“Wait, Jake, don’t forget Haley!” An older woman called as she walked down the corridor with a small ten-year-old following besides her.

“Awe man, seriously?” Jake frowns, watching his mother help his sister through the straps of her backpack.

“Yes, I have to head out in…now!” His mother’s eyes widened as she looked at her watch. Giving a quick peck on her kid’s foreheads, she ran back inside, “Johnathan, we have to go now!”

“Oh, oh! Now? Oh, shoot! Head for the car, I’ll be right there!” The older man with glasses was quick to tighten his tie and grab his car keys. Rushing past the kids, he gave them both a little hair ruffle before they entered the car and drove off.

“Well, that was somethin.” The siblings looked down the steps to see Jake’s two friends staring off where their parents had gone.

“What’s with the rush?” The male wearing a beanie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hi Spud, Hi Trixie. Mom has an early wedding to get too.” Haley explained hopping down the steps' while her brother locked the door, “Dad’s driving her before heading to work.”

“Hey there Haley.” Trixie smiled, the fairy-like wings on her back flapping about happily, “Guess that means we’re dropping you off on our way.”

“Wicked.” Spud grinned as he patted the girl’s head.

“Sup guys,” Jake greeted with a grin as he skipped the last three steps, “We should get moving unless we all want to be late.” He prompted them to start walking.

“Hey Jakey, did you tell your parents about that program you want to enter?” Trixie asked.

“The Hero Collaboration Program, right? Yeah, he asked. I don’t think he’ll get accepted, though. I mean, have you seen his grades? I doubt he’ll be accepted.” Haley waved her hand about dismissively, earning a glare from her brother. Trixie and Spud shared a look.

“Uh, the program isn’t based on grades.” Trixie’s words made the young girl blink in surprise.

“It… it’s not?”

“Nah, It's just an essay where you talk about yourself and an interview.” Spud explained

“Whoa - that’s ridiculous! It’s an exchange student program! It’s supposed to be based on grades! What kind of program doesn’t base anything off of grades!?” Haley tugged at her pigtails as she threw herself into a spiral.

“It’s a Hero program, Haley. We’re supposed to learn more about the hero world while we’re there and make connections with other students. They wouldn't even let us apply unless we were in the hero courses, and you gotta have at least a 2.5 to even get those classes. I’ve got straight B’s and one C. I'm golden if I can write a good enough essay and pass the interviews.” Jake sent his friends a grateful smile.

“That’s ridiculous! A 3.0 or a 4.0 student would benefit from it more! Why are they allowing such low grades in?” Jake rolled his eyes fondly at his younger sister’s ‘good grades are everything’ tirade. He almost cried out in happiness when he spotted her school come into view.

“Alright Haley~ Here’s your school, see you later, bye~!” Jake grinned as he gently pushed his younger sister towards the school doors. The little girl walked into the school, continuing her speech. Jogging back over to his friends, Jake gave them a smile.

“Thanks for helping with Haley, guys.”

“Naaah it’s no prob bro. Your sister is just focused on perfect grades. Wait till she gets older and realizes that that’s not going to help her with real world problems.” Spud nods as they all set down their skateboards.

Trixie pats her friend's shoulder, “Technically, Spud’s right, but we’re also not gonna let your little sister bully you just cause she’s got a 4.0 GPA. Besides, I'm sure you’ll get in, Jakey.”

“Thanks guys.”

“Anytime dude.”

“Alright, that's enough mushy stuff, let's go before the warning bell rings!” Trixie waved her hands about before kicking off, her friends close behind her.

Jake Long. Age 16. Seat 5. Student rank 18. Hero Name: Red Dragon. Quirk: Huolong

Can shapeshift into a dragon. He can also transform any part of his body into his dragon part without completely shape shifting.

Hand to Hand, Karate, parkour

____

A girl with ankle long blond hair skipped down the stairs of her house. Hearing the TV on, she assumes it’s her parents and calls out a greeting, only to pause at the foot of the stairs upon seeing her cousin. “Oh! Hey Finn” She grins, walking over to give him a hug, her hair shrinking down to be a bob cut.

“Hey Fionna.” Fin grins, ruffling his younger cousin’s hair.

“What are you doing here so early?” Fionna asked as she looked around.

“Mom and dad had their anniversary trip today and Jake and Lady’s place is kind of full 'cause of all the kids, so they dropped me off here.” Finn explained, walking with his cousin into the kitchen.

“Oh, that’s cool.” Fionna looked around the kitchen to see her breakfast already prepared and covered with saran wrap. “When did my parents leave?”

“About twenty minutes ago. I would have gone back to sleep, but I figured you might not see me, and I’d end up sleeping all day.” Finn yawned, walking back to the living room.

“Good call.” Fionna giggles as she grabs a fork and walks into the living room with her cousin.

“Hey, Finn, can I ask you something?” Fionna asks once she finishes her food. Her cousin hums in response, “You were, like, a sophomore once, right?”

Finn snorts at the question. Turning to face his cousin, he gives her a soft kick on the thigh with his foot, “Dude, I’m just one year older than you.” Fionna blushes, realizing the ridiculousness of her question.

Giving an awkward laugh, she clears her throat, “Right. Well, … did you apply for the Hero Collaboration Program?” Silence filled the room. Fionna was starting to feel nervous at the blank stare her cousin was giving her. She prepares to speak, only to jump in surprise as Finn bursts into laughter.

“Oh, oh, thank glob! I thought you were going to ask me for advice with Ignis! Yeah, I did though!”

“Whoa-” Fionna could feel her cheeks heat up at that. The image of a good-looking boy with a mohawk made of flames smiling at her made her face look like a tomato, “W - why would I want advice with Ignis?!”

“Are you kidding me? I’ve seen the way you get all flustered around him!” Finn grins, earning him a kick to the side. The force making him fall off the couch eliciting loud laughter.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Fionna huffed as she got to her feet and took her dirty dish to the kitchen to wash, “I just wanted your opinion on whether or not I should apply for the program! Jerk…”

With a gasp for breath, Finn rose up to his feet, his smile never faltering, “You’re going to apply?”

“Mmm, I’m thinking about it. I’m not sure, though.” The blond female sighs, dark blue eyes focused on the trickling water from the sink.

“Well, It’s not due till mid-December, right? You’ve got a lot of time to think about it.”

“I knoooow, it’s just that… I want to do it, but I’ve never really gone so far from home, I’m a little scared and nervous.” Fionna sighed, turning off the sink and putting the now clean plate away.

“You can’t think of it like that! Think of it like an adventure!” Finn grins, glancing at the clock and grabbing his backpack and Fionna’s.

“An adventure?” Fionna raises an eyebrow as she grabs her beanie that matches her cousin’s hat, only with bunny ears instead of bear ears.

“Yeah! But you gotta say it like this; AAAADVENTURE!” Finn pumped his fist in the air as he shouted, his other hand handed her her backpack. Fionna giggles.

“Alright, AAADVENTURE!” She shouts, making them both burst into a fit of giggles.

“Yeah, you got it! Whenever I get nervous or scared to go somewhere, I think of it as if I'm going on an adventure! I do the same thing when I’m lost, that way I don’t freak out about it.”

“Well, that explains why you came home with a large smile after being missing almost a whole day when we were eight.” Fionna grumbled as she opened the door.

“Yeah! I was scared, but I kept telling myself that I was on an adventure to find the castle! The castle being home. I even met a hero on the way! Did I tell you about that? It was awesome! She was so cool, it’s what drove me to become a hero!” Finn grins toothily.

Fionna blows her hair out of her face as she closes the door behind them both once outside. “I don’t think I could ever be so optimistic, Finn.” She turns to continue walking, she bumps into her cousin’s back. “Uh… Finn?”

“It’s not that I’m optimistic, it’s just that if I let my fear or nerves get to me, I would never get anything done. We’re studying to be heroes, Fionna, you have to, just, take a leap of faith.” Finn turned to face his cousin, eyes shining with resolve, “I’m not saying it’s bad to feel that way, no, it’s okay to feel nervous or scared or even sad. It’s a normal human emotion, we all feel it. What I am saying though is; don’t let those emotions overpower your mind and let it control you. You have to put yourself out there, even if it hurts you, or you regret it, at least you can say that you tried. You’ll always come out of that stronger and smarter.”

Fiona stared at her cousin in surprise. Reaching out, he gave her shoulder a soft punch, “Sign up for that program. Trust me, it’ll do you some good,” He grins widely, mischief in his eyes, “and ask Ignis out already.”

Fiona let out a gasp in surprise and punched her cousin, “Shut it, you! I thought we were having a moment!”

“Ahahah ouch!” Finn laughed as he rubbed his sore bicep, Fionna marching past him towards school. Finn was quick to follow.

“Hey… Finn…” Fionna spoke softly once the school came into view. Her cousin hummed in response, “Thanks… I never took you to be so inspirational.”

“Eh, I have my moments.” Finn smiles, patting her head

“And Finn?” A brightly smiling Fionna skipped forward to stand in front of her cousin, turning on her heel she beamed up at her taller cousin.

“Yeah?” Finn asked stopping in his tracks.

“You should totally ask out Ignis’s older sister, Lucerna~” her smile morphed into a wicked smirk as she watched Finn’s face slowly turn bright red. With a giggle, she waved at her cousin and ran to her friend group with a wave.

“F- Fionna!” Finn shouted before chasing after her, making her laugh louder.

Fiona Venture. Age 15. Seat 16. Student Rank 19. Hero Name: Bunny. Quirk: Hair manipulation

She can alter, grow out, regenerate, reshape and change the texture of her hair. Has complete control of her hair like another limb.

Hand to hand, sword

____

“Hey guys~! Have no fear, B.B is here to brighten your lunch!” A boy with green skin and hair gave a toothy grin, showing off his fangs.

“Oh joy.” A pale girl with short purple hair rolled her eyes fondly as the boy flopped on the lunch table next to her.

“Hey Gar.” Jaime gave a soft smile and half-hearted wave.

“Wh - what the hell kind of energy was that?” Garfield frowned as he opened his lunch box, “That was the most depressing ‘hi’ I’ve ever gotten in my life - and I'm dating Raven! Ah, no offense.”

“I’d be shocked if I even got offended with your antics at this point.” Raven shrugged.

Jaime gave a half-hearted laugh, “Sorry dude, I’ve just been having an, eh, day.” he shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh, dude, what happened?” Garfield frowns

“My mom is being a worry wart about the program.” Jaime sighed, taking a bite of his lunch, “We also had a pop quiz in Mr. Valencia’s class. I totally fucked that up.”

“Oooo ouch dude. I’m sure you’ll be able to convince your mom to let you sign up. You’ve got plenty of time, too. It’s not due till December.” Garfield attempted to reassure, “Plus, Mr. Valencia like’s watching his students struggle. He’s always got that wicked smirk when he announces pop quizzes.”

Jaime snickers, “Yeah, you’re right. What about you? You gonna sign up?”

“Heck yeah, I am!” Garfield raises a fist in the air, “It sounds awesome!”

“I'm still surprised that your grades are high enough to get into the hero course.” Raven smirks at the jab.

“I’m hurt that you don’t trust my natural smartness skills, mama.” Garfield pouts, his pointed ears drooping for effect.

Raven gestures to him as she stares Jaime dead in the eyes, “Jee, I wonder why.” her plain voice made the boy across from her snort.

Garfield Logan. Age 16. Seat 7. Student Rank 20. Hero name: Beast Boy. Quirk: Shape shifting

He can turn into any animal in the animal kingdom. Has recently discovered he could also become mythical creatures.

Hand to Hand

_____

Shouta Aizawa let out a long, tired and heavy sigh as he went through the biology homework his students had turned in yesterday. He would have gone over them then, but honestly; he didn’t want to. He wasn’t too keen on doing this before his shift either, but he can’t really put it off forever. Even if he wanted to. Finally, finishing the last worksheet, he set it to the side, so he can hand them back out later. Glancing at the clock, he noted that it was almost 7 AM, and he should start heading to the school.

Leaning back on his couch, he rubbed the palm of his hands on his eyes as he let out a soft groan. He sat there for a few minutes, enjoying the silence, before letting out another long sigh and finally standing on his feet to finish getting ready. Once he finished changing, he headed to the kitchen and began preparing some coffee to take with him. The teachers 'dorms' was more like an apartment building complete with a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and livingroom. The only reason the staff even bother calling it a 'dorm' is to not make the students jealous.

When his drink was finally ready, he took a long swing, unbothered by the scolding liquid, he let out a content sigh before filling up a thermos, grabbing what he needed and heading for the door. Putting on his shoes, makeing sure food was in his cat's bowl and throwing on his scarf, he walked out into the hallway.

“Ah, good morning, Aizawa.” Ken Ishiyama greeted, making his way down the hallway.

“Ishiyama.” Aizawa nodded, locking his door, he walked the same direction as his coworker.

“You needed me to come in during the heroics class today, correct?” Ken pressed the button to the elevator.

“Yeah, Yagi is going to conduct a kind of maze race today. I was hoping you can come in and create the maze as he gives his lecture to the students, maybe sooner if you can.” Aizawa explained as they both stepped into the elevator with a third-year teacher. They all gave one another a quick greeting.

“Hmmm a maze, huh? I’ll have to speak to Yagi about the difficulty he wants the maze to be, but I can make it.” Ken nods, “Once I’m done speaking to him, I’ll work on it during my third period break.”

“I appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem. Though, I kind of wish you guys had asked me yesterday, I could have made it after classes ended.”

“Yeah, sorry. You know how Yagi is. Doesn’t solidify any plans till the last minute. He hadn’t told me about it till 9 PM last night through text.”

“Yikes.” The third-year teacher commented softly.

“You have no idea.” Both teachers responded just as the doors opened to the dorm's common area. The space was filled with a handful of teachers finishing their morning routine before heading for the school. Walking past the counter, Aizawa snagged himself a muffin Lunch Rush made last night for the whole staff during one of his inspirational drives.

Entering the teachers’ lounge, Shouta practically threw himself on his chair. Finishing off his muffin, tired black eyes turned to the stack of papers on his desk. He almost let out a groan when he read the title. Is it really that time of year already? Usually he participates as a chaperone since he usually expels his class, leaving them under the jurisdiction of another teacher. Unfortunately for him, it seems like he has a class this year. A class full of problem children, great.

“Hey Aizawa! Looks like this year’s one of those few years you’ll have an actual class, huh.” Kan walked over as he skimmed through the papers in his hand.

“Unfortunately.” Aizawa sighed

“Thank the gods” Nemuri sighed as she ran a hand down her face, making Hizashi snort.

“You know, if you wanted my class so bad, I could have expelled them this year.” Aizawa drawls out flatly as he takes a few papers and stands to his feet. This made Hizashi start cackling into his hand, while the raven-haired woman let out a whine.

“Um, what are you talking about?” Yagi asked from his desk.

“Ah, that’s right, I guess this program is still kind of considered new, huh.” Kan mumbled to himself softly.

“Every time Shouta decides to expel his class, they are placed under my care, since I don’t have a homeroom class and am technically considered a substitute teacher.” Nemuri shoots an accusing finger at her friend who pointedly ignored her in favor of going through the papers, “And because of that I’m usually stuck taking his class to California for this stupid program!”

“She’s just mad that they force her to wear a more modest version of her hero costume and speak without foul language when she’s working with the kids.” Aizawa added with an eye roll, “Honestly, I don’t understand why Nedzu doesn’t enforce that here too.”

“Agh, you hurt me, Shouta! What would I even be if not for my amazing, sexy self!”

“More approachable.” The man responded as he drank some of his coffee before turning to Kan, “Alright, I’m ready to go.” Both men made their way to Principal Nedzu’s office.

“I... erm, I actually wanted to know what program you’re all talking about…” Yagi mumbles sheepishly, “Though it’s good to know that the student’s he expels aren’t actually expelled.”

“Nah, they're basically placed on a probationary period for the whole year. I can’t say his methods don’t work, though, lots of those kids learned to work for things they want and not just half assing it.” Nemuri sighed.

“As for the program, it’s a program that Nedzu had finalized during our first year here.” Hizashi informed, “It’s called the Hero Collaboration Program. Basically, around the end of the school year, all first year hero students go to America to train and socialize with other students from across the country and around the world.”

Yagi perked up at this information, “Oh! That sounds like a lot of fun!”

“Even though they censor me, it is.” Nemuri leaned back in her seat, arms crossed, “There are quite a few field trips to museums, training activities, quirk theory classes and plenty of sparring. They even have a big party with live entertainment at the end of it, all along with a closing ceremony.”

“That sounds like a lot…” Yagi spoke in awe

“It is, but they’ve got a bunch of big companies from all over the place supporting them,” Hizashi nods.

“All the other departments have kind of similar field trips.” Higari Maijima piped in as he made his way to the printer, “The second-year support department are going to leave for theirs next week, third year business had one in the beginning of December and the third-year general education will have something a week before finals in March.”

“Ah! It’s good to know the youth of today are getting many more opportunities such as this to further their education.” Yagi grinned, “If only there were programs like that when I was back in high school.”

“Well, lucky for you, Toshinori, you’re going to be a chaperone for my class.” Shouta announced with an eye roll as he and Kan walked over. Once he was closer, he handed him two pages for him to go over. Its unfortunate he can’t choose who will be the chaperone to acompany him. It’s not that he hates Yagi, he’s a nice guy, don’t get him wrong, but the guy is still very new to teaching. He supposes him being a chaperone would be a good experiance for him though.

“Done with your meeting with Nedzu already?” Hizashi rose a brow

“We just had to go over the usual rules and guidelines.” Kan informed, handing an excited Hizashi two papers, “A few changes have been made, but other than that it’s nothing new.”

Glancing at the time, Shouta almost let out a sigh in relief. He has 33 minutes before classes start. “Well, now that that’s all settled, I’m going to take a cat nap before classes.” He waved to his coworkers before heading over to his desk, where he pulled out his yellow sleeping bag. Making himself comfortable under his desk, he drifted off.

Shouta let out an annoyed grumble as he found himself being dragged out from under his desk. The warning bell hasn’t even rung yet, he’d know if it did. He has a digital clock he keeps under his desk to keep track of time. There are those rare days when he wouldn’t mind waking up or being woken up before the bell. Today, however, is not that day. Especially when he woke up to his best friend yelling at him and dragging him out from under his desk.

Shouta knows he can’t do much to get back at him without looking like a petulant child, so he opted for going completely limp. Make his friend's job just a little harder. And during lunch he may, or may not, throw a bunch of salt on his lunch when he’s not looking. Maybe he’ll even put a small pebble in his shoe just to inconvenience him. Who knows, he’ll decide later.

“Common Shou, class is starting soon!” Hizashi groaned.

Black eyes glanced at the clock under his desk, “The bell doesn’t even ring for another four minutes. There is no reason for you to wake me up and drag me.”

“Well, if you don’t get up, I won’t give you the coffee I made”

“Irrelevant, I can always take it when the bell rings.”

“It’ll be lukewarm by then”

“We have a microwave.”

“Ummm, you want to be in class on time?”

“Gross”

“If you’re not there early to give the announcement you wont be able to teach your students everything you were going to teach them and Toshinori is going to end up being the one to tell them during heroics class.”

Shouta pulled his feet away from Hizashi making him stumble back. Before he could complain, his friend was already on his feet and folding his sleeping bag. Glancing at his friend, he raises an eyebrow, “What are you waiting for?” He spoke coolly as he took the cup of hot coffee he'd made him. Shouta made sure to maintain eye contact as he drank his coffee, “Let’s go, or you’ll be late.”

The moment Shouta had closed the door behind him, he smirked at the scream of mild indignation his friend let out. Walking down the hallway, the older man made sure his steps were slow, he even took the long way there. By the time he made it to the door of his classroom, he waited for the last warning bell to go off. Once it had, he opened the door and stepped inside. The noise was quick to quiet down, and his students were in their seats. Good.

“Good morning class, before we start today’s lesson, I have an announcement.” From his peripheral vision, he could see his students exchange confused looks. Once he had reached his desk, he set down the binder he carried with him and took out the information sheets, “Class representatives.” He waved a stack of paper with a list of things they will need, Yaoyorozu and Iida were on their feet walking towards him immediately. Handing Iida the papers, he went through his binder again to pull out brochure-like guidebooks with the rules and regulations to hand to Yaoyorozu. Both teens eyed the papers, they gave them a curious look as they began to pass them out.

“If you read the information sheet, you’d see that both class 1-A and 1-B will be having a field trip abroad to America as a part of a program. The back of that sheet has -”

“What!? America?!”

“No way! That’s awesome!”

“What’s a ‘sophomore’?”

“It literally says right there on the paper, Denki.”

“I need to brush up on my English!”

“This is so cool!”

Aizawa shot his students a quirk enhanced glare, making them all flinch and fall silent. Once he was sure they wouldn’t speak up again, he closed his eyes. Rubbing his eyes with the palm of a hand, he continued, “As I was saying; The back of that sheet has everything you’d need to pack besides the obvious. As for the brochure, it has the rules and regulations you must all follow. Let me give you a quick rundown of the top 4 rules, pay attention because these are the most important ones. 1. You are not allowed to harm anyone with your quirk outside of training unless used for self-defense. 2. All property damage done outside of training with or without your quirk must be paid for - lucky for you lot the school pays for any damages done. You better not do it, though, it’s a lot of paperwork. 3. Inappropriate behavior will not go unpunished, depending on the offense it may result in program suspension for a few days or even get you sent home and possible suspension or expulsion here at school or the hero course program all together.”

“Whoa, these punishments are kind of brutal…” Kirishima mumbled.

Shouta took a deep breath before he read the last one. From the looks of disbelief from some of his students though, they already read ahead, “And lastly, your hero’s license in America is considered a permit. You are not allowed to engage in any villain fighting unless given special permission from a pro hero. If an emergency does occur, you are to only help civilians to safety. Once a pro hero appears, you must A) give them your name, B) State the situation and C) inform them of your training. If the hero decides it’s best you help tend to the injured, you are to do as you are told. If they allow you to assist them in battle, you must provide back up and not directly engage with the villain yourself unless absolutely necessary. Failure to follow this rule will result in an automatic three-week suspension of your hero license.”

“What?!” Most of his class began to complain.

“What if the hero needs help fighting!?”

“How are we only allowed to provide back up!?”

“Why can’t we engage?!”

“What do you mean ‘absolutely necessary’??”

Activating his quirk again with a glare, everyone fell silent again. This has never been an issue before, but that's because the first years aren't even supposed to have their licenses to begin with. Goddamn it. Letting out a long-annoyed sigh, Shouta began to explain, “Look. To begin with, you lot weren’t even supposed to get your licenses till next year but due to the villain attacks, things were rushed for your own safety. Also, the laws in America are very different from they are here, this applies to many other places as well. Once you are outside Japanese soil and somewhere else, you should have the common decency and common sense to follow their laws and to be respectful. Now, then, what they mean by ‘absolutely necessary’ is if the villain decides to attack you directly, you are free to fight back on the pretense of self-defense. Other than that, your priority is to help civilians out of the danger zone, that way the hero wouldn’t have to worry about them as they fight, and they can’t be used as leverage against them. If you are in a situation where the civilians are all out of danger and no other pros have arrived at the scene to help, you speak to the hero on the scene. If they give you orders allowing you to engage, then you are allowed to go into battle, however, if the pro tells you suddenly to back off, you must back off, like it or not.”

“That’s utter bullshit!” Katsuki Bakugo shouted in anger, “Why the hell should we even follow that rule?! We have our licenses; we should be allowed to engage right away!!”

“As much as I hate to agree with Bakugo, I must. Sensei, why must we do so much?” Tenya Iida asked

“It’s the law. Even if they are going into hero work, the hero licenses are treated like drivers’ licenses. First years are allowed to test for their permit allowing them to enter the scene and their top priority is to evacuate the citizens for the hero. Second years with permits must take a more advanced version of the first exam, and then they are allowed to engage in battle when they see it fit, as long as all the civilians are out of the way. Third years, retake both exams at once, after which they are given a license to become a first responder. In America, they have academy’s where heroes in training take the final steps to becoming pros. Once you finish that, you are given a pro license and are allowed to start an agency, become a hero course teacher, and many other things that I can’t bother going over.”

“Those stupid losers don’t even become pros without an extra year of school. That’s pathetic.” Katsuki smirked cockily, arms crossed over his chest.

“I… Their system sounds quite efficient, though.” Yaoyorozu spoke up softly.

“I mean, yeah, but imagine having to go to an academy just to become a pro even after having finished high school? Agh That must suck!” Mina groaned.

“Alright that’s enough. We’re not here to talk about the differences between here and there. You can do that on your own time. As for now, I want you all to remember that guidebook by memory. I don’t want any mishaps just because you forgot to read it over.” Aizawa went through the binder once more and handed the permission slips to the students in the front seats to pass back, “You all have until the end of January to turn these in. That means you all have three-and-a-half weeks to visit your family and have these signed. If you can’t visit for whatever reason, you have a fax machine in the dorms, use it. Any questions?” Nobody raised their hands, “Good. Start brushing up on your English you will need it, the trip is mid-February, next month. Now, let’s get started with today’s lesson.”

And that is the end of chapter 1! I’ll post chapter 2 whenever I finish it. Hope you guys are intrested in the story thus far! Much thought went into it. :)

Chapter 1 part 1 --> Chapter 1 part 2

-Chapter 2-

#fanfiction #my hero academy fanfiction #Bnha au #el tigre #the incredibles #chalk zone #american dragon jake long #adventure time #young justice #frida suarez #manny rivera #violet parr #rudy tabootie #jake long #fionna #garfield logan #aizawa shouta #class 1a #crossover fanfiction

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tomtenadia · 3 years

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Island Dreams - Chapter 3

Hi all and welcome to chapter 3.

So, thing are starting to happen and, alas, angst has decided to come and pay a visit. I used HoF for a bit of inspiration.

Some Gaelic for you: suidh sìos - sit down

The light issue at the very beginning: Yes, in Scotland, in the summer, it can get quite difficult to sleep. Day are super long and it's easy to have light until late and back again at 3am.

I have read it twice before posting. But I had a very long day at work and if I have left some typos I apologise.

Happy reading!

------

Aelin had woken up early that morning. She had forgotten to close the curtains the previous night. She had gotten home quite late from her trip and she was grateful that the supermarket stayed open until late because she still had to buy food for the house. She had whipped up a quick dinner, a shower and then she had tucked herself on the chair in her room. It was so bright outside that she could not force herself to go to bed. Eventually tiredness caught up with her and she gave up. Because she forgot to close the curtains, now it was broad daylight even if it was just 4am. She rolled on the other side and tucked her head under the pillow and went back to sleep. She awoke again two hours later. Apparently the adrenaline of being in a new place was too much. So she got up and decided she could go for a run. She donned her running clothes and she left the house. She had spotted a place called Lews castle and from the map it seemed the perfect place for a run in a park. Aelin followed the marina cut through the town centre, passed Rowan’s shop and ended up near the river. Then crossed the small bridge to reach Lews’ castle grounds. Quickly she took a mental note of the fact that the place was a museum and added it to the list of places to visit, which by the way was getting longer by the minute and kept running a good hour until her body started to protest. The day was gorgeous again and they were blessed with a stunning blue sky. Aelin ran found her way back to a road that took her on a pier along the sea. Finally decided to sit at the bench and relaxed a bit, taking a full mouthful from her water bottle. In London she had little chance of running in parks so she had to use a gym but here… she could run in the nature and it made all the difference.

A few elderly people greeted her as they passed the bench and that was something else that stunned her. Complete strangers greeting her. She removed the headphones from her ears and decided to listen to the sounds of the place around her. She had always considered herself a die-hard city girl. Someone who could never leave the hustle and bustle of the big city. Her soul craved the frenetic life that London gave her. And now, in her early thirties, with her life completely upside down and on pause she was starting to realise that things had changed so much from when she was young. All of sudden her priorities had turned and a quiet life was all she wanted. She needed to slow down. Her ambition had helped her to secure a position quite high in her job. But that ambition had not helped her to reach the top. She had literally given her life to her job. She had sacrificed so much and it had been all for nothing and came to the realisation that she felt lost. For the first time in her life she could not see the path ahead. And that was why she had left. To try and live day by day for a while and learn to enjoy life again hoping that life in a quiet place like Stornoway would give her purpose again. “Oh Aelin, stop maudlin.” She told herself, getting fed up with the dark twist her thoughts had taken. She sighed and stood and started running again, tracing her path back to the town centre. Eventually went back to the house, took a shower and an hour later she was ready to head off to Maeve’s for breakfast. She was quite eager to taste her cakes. The woman had given her a slice of a chocolate cake the day before and Aelin had admitted it was of the best cakes she had ever tasted.

Twenty minutes later she reached the coffee shop and was happy to see that it was open. It was just about 9am and wasn’t not sure yet when life on the islands actually started. “Madainn mhath” she said, feeling like an idiot for her horrendous pronunciation. Once she noticed the shop was empty she felt better. At least she did not embarrassed herself in front of an audience. “Oh, Madainn mhath, a Aelin.” Said the woman from behind the counter “Are you here for breakfast?” Aelin took a seat at a table near the counter “Yes, but not Scottish breakfast this morning. I don’t think I can survive it tow mornings in a row.” Maeve laughed “I made some lovely apple turnovers, fancy one?” Aelin’s mouth began watering. If they were as good as the cake… “Make it two. I went for a run and I am starving.” Maeve disappeared through the back and came back a bit later with a tray with a mug of coffee and the apple turnovers. “I am going to get so fat.” She said out loud and then began tackling her breakfast and listened to the music in the background. It was a female singer and she sang in what Aelin was positive was Gaelic. Rowan was right. It was such a beautiful language and sung was even better. “Who is the singer?” “She is Julie Fowlis. She is from North Uist and sings mostly in Gaelic. She is a great singer.” The tune was slow and it seemed quite sad. “This song is called Mo Dhòmhnallan Fhèin, and it means My own Donald. It’s a sad love story.” “It’s beautiful.” She commented and corrected herself quickly “The language, I mean, not the sad love story.” “Ask Rowan and he will give you plenty of suggestions of bands you can discover if you want to listen to locals or Gaelic singers.” The woman explained and took a seat in front of her sipping her own cup of coffee. Aelin had such good vibes from the woman. She was very maternal to her and towards Rowan as well. She was curious to know more about their relationship. Something told her that it was deeper than it seemed. “And if you are still here in July you cannot miss Heb Celt. It’s a wonderful festival of Scottish music. It’s a three day event but it brings people from across all of Scotland and oversea as well. “It sounds wonderful.” “You just have to stay a bit longer.” Aelin sighed “I have been here only a day and I already feel as my soul has been stolen by these islands. I…” she paused, she felt like she could talk to Maeve. “I left my life in London for now. I needed a break before crumpling down for good.” Maeve put a hand on Aelin’s arm “As I told you yesterday, this is the perfect life. Island life here is a cure for the soul.” Said the woman squeezing the arm gently “Want to talk about it?” Aelin took a sip of coffee to gather her thoughts “Big job delusion and a bad divorce.” She did not have the mental strength to go into too much detail. It still hurt too much and Lysandra was the only person with whom she could fully talk about her life. “I feel lost and stuck.” A flicker of deep tenderness appeared in Maeve’s eyes “Sounds like you and Rowan could help each other.” Aelin whipped her head in the direction of the woman and stared at her. “He is stuck too.” That’s all Maeve volunteered. The woman stood as soon as a customer entered the shop. She greeted the man and they began a conversation in Gaelic. Aelin was staring at her empty plate and was still pondering about the comment that Maeve made about her nephew. What did she mean by they could help each other? And why was he stuck? She wanted to know more but could not ask him. He seemed like the very reserved type and she had no intention to pry. Once her plate was clear and breakfast over, she stood and was about to leave when Maeve reached her and gave her a take away cup “Could you please bring this to Rowan? He should be opening his shop now.” “Of course.” Aelin said her goodbyes to the woman and left, taking the path to Rowan’s shop. She had to buy the next books in the series anyway so she was just catching two birds with one stone. Once she got to the shop she noticed it was open. She entered and Rowan was at the counter working on the computer. “Madainn mhath.” She tried again. He looked up and noticed her and a brief and quick smile appeared on his lips but not genuine enough to reach his beautiful green eyes. “Morning to you.” He replied almost annoyed. “I bring coffee. Courtesy of your aunt.” Aelin offered him the cup but the reaction she got from him was unexpected. He glared at her “What did you say?” “Coffee from your aunt?” “How do you know Maeve is my aunt?” His tone was now tinged with anger. “She told me.” He ignored the cup of coffee and continued working as if Aelin was not even in the shop “She shouldn’t have.” “Is that a secret?” “It was not her place. And it’s definitely none of your business.” Rowan was mad. It was clear from his facial expression, but she could not understand why such a statement would make him so mad. Aelin placed the cup on the counter with a bit too much force “Don’t worry she did not reveal any big secret. Your fucking perfect life is safe.” He slammed the pen on the desk at her tone “What do you want? You delivered the coffee, your job is done.” Aelin was now fuming.”What do I want?” Her tone dripped vitriol. If he wanted a fight, she was giving him one. “I was being nice.” She put the backpack on her shoulder, ready to leave “I was here to buy the next books in the series I got yesterday. I came here to thank you as well for the suggestions you gave me yesterday because I loved every place you recommended." she took a deep breath and tried to calm her fury "And while I am here how do you say asshole in Gaelic?” She noted his reaction and she knew she had gone too far. That was her bloody problem, she had no filters and sometimes she struggled to connect brain and mouth before speaking. Something she had become pretty good at doing during her many fights with Chaol. Not her proudest moment. He left the counter and went to the shelf where she got the book the day before. He came back a moment later with three books in his hands “I don’t have the last one. I can order it.” “Leave it. I’ll order it on Amazon just to piss you off.” She really had to learn control herself. She took another deep breath “Fine, order it.” He didn’t comment and started typing on the computer. “It should be here in a week. I’ll let Maeve know. You are best chums now.” There was irritation in his voice. He was actually mad at her. “You should expect to see us skipping arm in arm around Stornoway singing bawdy songs pretty soon.” He did not like the joke. Definitely the wrong crowd. “Try and get laid. It helps the mood.” She added and hated herself seconds after it once she remembered what Maeve said. He was stuck too. “I am sorry…” Apologising right away for her horrible comment. She was a bloody idiot. “It’s £21.50” he said flatly and with no emotion in his voice. His eyes were cold and it looked like he could kill her with a stare. He kept the bag with the books for a moment and leaned forward on the counter “Don’t you dare to comment on my life ever again. You are a customer. Nothing more. You are nothing to me.” Aelin felt like crying. Yes, she had been nasty but Rowan was being cruel to her on purpose “There is nothing I can give. Nothing I want to give you.” He added when he noted her hurt expression. Then Rowan finally passed her the bag with the books “Now get out of my sight.” Aelin took the bag in silence and left the store. She walked away and left her feet to lead her. She did not notice she was back at the marina. She found a quite spot on the pier and sat down, her feet dangling. And then the tears came. And she cried. And the tears turned into heavy sobs. She took the phone and called Lysandra, but when the woman did not answered she hugged her legs to her chest and dropped her head on the knees as if to try and hold the pieces together. She was tired. And for a moment she just wanted to disappear.

Rowan was fuming. How dare she? She didn’t know anything about his life. How dare she make such a comment? He closed the store and walked quite angrily to his aunt’s coffee shop. She loved to gossip a bit too much and wondered what she had told Aelin. When he reached the shop he was glad it was not busy, that conversation did not need and audience. “Good morning, darling.” Maeve said in a cheery voice, unaware what was about to hit her. “What did you tell her?” His aunt looked at him with a confused expression. “Aelin. The new girl. You told her you are my aunt. What else did you tell her about my miserable life, eh?” “Rowan, suidh sìos.” Her tone had a hint of command. Her face lost the loving and caring side and Rowan knew he was in trouble. So he obeyed her and sat down at the table like she commanded. “I did not tell her anything. I just told her that you are my nephew. I did not know that was a secret.” She was definitely not happy about him. Maeve sat down in front of him “What did you do?” He looked away, shying away from the conversation. Maeve sighed “Rowan, she is going through a tough moment in her life. Be nice to her. Be nice to each other. She seems like a lovely woman. Why don’t give yourself a second chance?” He still did not answer. “She is just as lost as you are. If you only stopped being mad at the world all the time, she might be the person to show you the way back, both of you.” He was stunned by his aunt’s words. It sounded like Aelin and Maeve really had become good friends already and that his aunt already knew a good deal about the woman. But there was no way he was letting anyone else in again. Not after… he pushed the name away. Even after almost a year it still hurt too much to talk about her. No, he was going to live the rest of his life on his own and on his own terms. “Don’t interfere.” He finally managed “It’s my life. I’ll decide what is best for me. And if my destiny is to become a lonely, grumpy old man, so be it.” He gritted his teeth and fisted his hands cooling down his anger. “I know you still hurt because of what Lyria did. But it has been almost a year…” “Don’t…” he hissed “Don’t ever say her name in front of me. Ever again.” “Rowan…” Maeve put a hand on his arm but he pushed her away. Maeve stood and looked at her nephew stone faced “Mrs MacIver asked me if you can order these for her grandson. It’s his birthday quite soon.” And she passed a note to him. “Fine.” He took the note and stood. “Find the way back, my darling.” Maeve said to him once he was at the door. He ignored the comment and left without a reply.

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #aedion x lysandra #lysandra #fluff #angst #throne of glass series

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bluezey · 3 years

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Inside Onward - The New Iandore

I just got a 2 in 1 laptop tablet combo for Christmas, which means Inside Onward is the last fanfiction I wrote on this hunk of junk laptop. And I couldn’t be prouder of that. Honestly, not only is this the longest fanfic I’ve written, I kinda stopped up and teared up at the last paragraph, not wanting to see this end. Thank you all for reading.

The familiar chime of the smartphone alarm rang through headquarters. Followed by another familiar wake up call of a chipper voice exclaiming, “It’s morning! It’s morning! Wake up, sleepyheads! It’s a new day!”

Fear woke up with a yawn, his arms and nerve stretching as far as they could reach. He then gave a lazy smile to Joy, watching him bound across the room, waking up Anger and Sadness. “Come on, you guys!” Joy cheered, still dressed in his pajamas, but raring to go. “You don’t want Ian to be late for school!”

Fear climbed out of bed and began getting dressed. “You heard him, guys. Let’s go.”

Once dressed and with notebook in hand, Fear followed Joy, Sadness and Anger out the bedroom door and down the stairs onto the Headquarters floor. Greeting them was Disgust busy at the console. “There you guys are,” Disgust said, hands on his hips. “Thankfully, I didn’t need your help getting Ian ready today.”

“That’s good to hear,” Fear commented, scribbling that note down in his notebook. “Disgust is present obviously, then there’s Anger, Sadness, and-“

“Me!” Joy chimed, before interrupting himself with a gasp.

Fear looked back at Joy, confused. “What?”

“You’re finally wearing the sweatshirt again,” Joy awed with a big smile.

Fear looked down at his Willowdale College sweatshirt. “Oh, well, I was just waiting for the right day to wear it.”

“What’s so special about today?” Disgust asked. “We’re just doing an oral report in history.”

“Not that,” Fear commented as he made his way to his locker. He opened it and pulled out a cardboard box. “See, I didn’t feel right if I was the only one who got to wear Dad’s sweatshirt. So, I made a few orders with some mind workers over at Dream Productions wardrobe department and… ta da!” Fear finished, pulling another replica of Dad’s sweatshirt out of the box.

Joy jumped up and down with, well, joy. “Our own sweatshirts! I’ve never been so happy! Oh, I’m gonna try mine on right now!” Joy exclaimed, snagging the sweatshirt from Fear’s hands.

Fear watched as each emotion took a sweatshirt and tried them on, each one fitting them perfectly. Anger rolled up the sleeves on his, Disgust adjusted by placing his comb and pocket mirror in his jeans pocket, and Sadness gladly snuggled up inside the hoodie of the sweatshirt.

“Glad you all like it,” Fear told everyone. “Now come on, let’s get Ian fed and off to school!”

----

The emotions gathered around the console, proudly watching Ian standing in front of the entire class, telling his story about his first epic quest for his history class. Months ago, Fear wouldn’t dare dream of the idea to his worst enemy. And here he was, just as excited as Joy is to let Ian stand out and tell the tale.

“And I believe, with a little magic in your life, you can do almost anything,” Ian concluded.

“Is that how you fixed the school?” one classmate asked.

“Yes,” Ian replied as he picked up his wizard’s staff, which was leaned against the chalkboard beside him.

“Is that how you also destroyed the school?” another student asked.

Ian sheepishly held his staff and replied, “Uh, also, yes?”

Fear shuttered nervously. “I hate Q and As.”

“Okay, so we had a hiccup,” Joy shrugged.

Disgust grinned as a bunch of familiar classmates approached Ian. “Here come Ian’s friends.”

“Great speech, Ian,” an elf student said.

“You coming to the park later?” a troll student asked.

“You know it,” Ian replied.

“Yay! Play time at the park!” Joy cheered.

“Joy,” Disgust told Joy. “Teenagers don’t have play time. They hang out.”

“I hope we don’t get too much homework,” Sadness sighed.

----

“Mom, I’m home,” Ian announced as he walked through the door. As the teenage elf placed his staff by the front door, he was almost caught off guard by a slender serpent bodied pet dragon leaping up and encircling his body to greet him.

“Hi Blazey, we’re home!” Joy almost sang as he took over at the controls. “Who’s a good dragon? Who’s a good dragon?”

After Ian gave Blazey a good scratch under her chin, the dragon ran off as Laurel entered the room. “So, how was school today?”

Ian folded his hands behind his back with a smile, as Joy and Disgust helped him respond, “It was pretty good.”

“Well, alright,” Laurel replied with a smile.

Just then, Colt entered the room, coffee cup in hand and a brand new wedding band on his finger. “Hey there, Ian,” he greeted. “You working hard?”

“Nope,” Ian replied. “Hardly working.” The emotions’ laughter almost drowned out Colt’s braying laugh.

Fear turned and watched Family Island light up with Ian’s response to Colt. After giving a careful double take, Fear left the emotions behind at the console and quickly made his way to the window. He overlooked the islands with a smile, starting with Family Island, now with a new Colt Bronco statue next to the Laurel statue. He panned over the Islands with a smile, observing every single one. Science Island, with its influence on space. School Island, proudly highlighting Ian’s math skills. Friendship Island, expanded to accommodate all of Ian’s new friends. Smartphone Island, a little smaller, but still a piece of Ian. Wizard Island, with a glow shimmering from atop Ian’s staff like the light of a lighthouse. Fear smiled wide as he scanned every single island.

Then stopped at Dad Island.

Thankfully, it has changed to show how much of an impact just one day with half a dad had on Ian’s life. Along with some pictures of Dad and a large replica of the Dad audio cassette, there was a large replica of striped purple socks draped on one side of the island, and a statue of Dad’s legs sitting on the edge of the other side. Dad’s legs were beside Family Island, making it look like they were connected. But, Fear’s smile faded, knowing that wasn’t true.

“Well well,” Joy commented, standing behind Fear. “If I’m not mistaken, I think Dad Island is a little closer today.”

Fear jumped from being startled, before giving a nervous smile. “Oh, hey Joy,” he exhaled a sigh, going back to looking melancholy over the island. Fear promised that Ian would finally meet his Dad, and he would be a better person because of it. But, only one part came true.

Joy watched Fear for a moment, then gave a supportive smile. “Hey. We’ll get Dad on Family Island one day.”

Fear gave half a smile. “Thanks, Joy.”

“I’m serious,” Joy replied. “We may not find another Phoenix Gem, but I’m sure there’s plenty more stories of Dad out there.”

Fear gave a full smile at Joy as the happy emotion gave the fearful emotion a big, warm side hug.

“Get off of him or you’re dead meat!” Anger shouted.

Fear and Joy turned to see onscreen Ian successfully grabbing Barley, flipping him out of his grapple and slam him onto the ground. Joy and Fear could hear Family Island chime behind them.

“Woo! Nice one, Anger!” Joy exclaimed, running up and giving the red emotion a fist bump.

“Phew! Thank goodness I wasn’t here for that,” Fear commented as he approached the console. “Barley sneaking up on us still scares the heck out of me.”

Ian took up his staff as he and Barley stepped out of the house. “So, how’s the new van?”

“Oh, Guinevere the Second is great!” Barley commented. “I’ve almost got enough saved up for a sweet paint job.”

“No, please, don’t,” Ian replied.

Barley looked surprised and confused. “Why not?”

“Stand back, boys,” Disgust told the other emotions as he took the controls. “I’ve been waiting all night for this.”

“Cause I already took care of it,” Ian replied, motioning his staff to the side of the van.

Barley turned and was immediately jumping and screaming with joy. On the side of the mandarin orange van was a mural of a Pegasus from Barley’s first van, with the same background color as old Guinevere. Upon the mighty steed was Barley in his adventure outfit, boldly his sword onward, with Ian dressed as a wizard at his side.

The emotions cheered as Joy exclaimed, “He loves it!”

Disgust brushed a blue curl from his face as he replied smugly, “Yeah, I know.”

The brothers climbed into the van and Barley backed out of the driveway. “Now, the best way to the park is to take a trail that I like to call the Road of Ruin,” Barley told Ian.

Ian gave an unimpressed shrug. “Nah, too obvious.”

Once again, Barley was thrown off his guard. “Wait, what?”

Joy turned to Fear with a big, bold grin. “You ready?”

Fear grinned back, a little less big, but still bold for a Fear. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“On a quest,” Ian quoted, as he took up his staff, “the quickest path is not always the right one.”

And with that, Joy and Fear slammed their hands down on a button between them on the console.

Ian held his staff aloft until the tip reached the ceiling. “Avi Volanta!” Ian declared, and Guinevere the second was enveloped in sparking white magic from the inside out. And, as Barley took the wheel, the van lifted off into the air and flew over the rooftops of their neighborhood. The brothers cheered in their success, and a rush of adrenaline from flying above New Mushroomton.

Inside Ian’s head, the emotions cheered on their Ian, with Fear occasionally reminding them all to focus on keeping the van in the air. They don’t want the brothers to crash!

----

Later that afternoon, as it was becoming evening, Fear snuck off real quick one more time. He made his way to the center of the Headquarters floor and tapped his foot on a button, making the core memory holder rise from its hiding place. Fear took a quick glance over the core memories, one for each part of Ian’s personality. After taking a brief pause on the blue and yellow memory powering Dad Island, Fear knelt down and inspected the core memory powering Family Island. While still in the holder, Fear brushed his finger against it, making it move to a memory of Laurel holding infant Ian while singing him to sleep. He moved his finger against it again, and the vision changed to Ian standing at the altar with Barley at Laurel and Colt’s wedding. He brushed against it once more, and the memory changed to kid Barley helping Ian learn to walk, followed by a vision of grown Ian hugging Barley back atop the remnants of the cursed dragon.

Each and every vision was still shining a bright and cheerful yellow, and Fear couldn’t be any more glad to see that.

“Come on, Fear!” Joy called out from the console. “Ian and Barley just made it home!”

“Oh! Coming!” Fear tapped his foot down on the button, and the core memory holder returned to its resting place, core memories and all. Fear returned to his place at the console, with his friends and coworkers, as Ian and Barley stepped into the front door of the Lightfoot home.

#inside onward #pixar inside out #pixar onward #sir iandore of lightfoot #ian lightfoot #barley lightfoot #joy #sadness #anger #disgust #fear

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jackiejacks923 · 4 years

Text

Love in Four Ways: Dream Lover [part 1]

Pairing: Shownu x reader

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

------------

You woke up to the sound of rain tapping on your bedroom window. You stretched the sleep out of your limbs. That’s when you realized that this isn’t the bed you fell asleep in. You opened your eyes and confirmed these surroundings were new to you.

Where am I? you thought to yourself as you sat up.

You ran your hands through your nest of hair in an attempt to wake yourself up further. You folded your hands in your lap and noticed something foreign on one of your fingers. You looked down and found a band around that significant finger. Your eyes widened as you examined it closer. A simple silver band engraved with a rose vine. You’ve never seen anything so beautiful. Surely this ring had a mate considering the finger you wore it on, but you looked to your side and found the spot empty.

Curiosity pushed you to your feet and out the bedroom door. This was definitely not your apartment, but there was still a sense of familiarity to it. You looked at the pictures lining the hallway you walked down. You recognized your old pictures, but they were mixed with a strange boy and his family. You came across a wedding picture of you in the arms of a handsome stranger which confirmed the meaning of the band you wore.

You walked into the living room area. It was homey, clean with hints of life in it. Life being the clutter of toys neatly stacked off to the side. You noticed a small stack of envelopes on the coffee table. You walked towards them and sat on the couch as you sorted through them.

“Son Y/N,” you whispered, “Son…” Clearly not the last name you lived with yesterday. You continued through the envelopes until you saw a different name. “Son Hyunwoo,” you whispered the name to the air and smiled. Your heart began to grow and skipped a beat...or two...or three. You haven’t even met him and yet some sort of feeling started building inside you. As you stared at the name, a sweet smell filled the air around you and beckoned you to go towards the kitchen.

Stopping at the entryway, you beheld the sight of the same man in the wedding picture in the hallway at the stove waiting to flip a pancake on to its other side. His two little helpers, a boy and a girl, were at the kitchen island tending to the toaster. The younger boy carefully inserted pieces in and pressed the switch, while the older girl delicately pulled out the hot pieces onto the plate. You studied the kids closely and saw some of your features mixed with features of the man at the stove. No doubt these kids belonged to you both. You leaned against the frame and crossed your arms and just took in the scene. It was so beautiful...and peaceful...and perfect...this was what you pictured your life to be like by this time. You felt so much love for these strangers.

Your husband looked behind him to check on the kids and then over to your direction and smiled lovingly. “Morning, hun.”

You smiled at the greeting and your body and mouth began to react on its own. “Hi, handsome,” you replied comfortably as you walked towards him and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

“Morning, mama,” your kids greeted.

You smiled and walked over to them and gave them each a kiss on the top of their heads. “Morning, my babies.”

“Are you ready to eat?” your daughter asked.

“I’m starving, Rosemarie,” you answered. How did I know that? you thought to yourself.

“Here mama,” your son said as he fed you a piece of cooled down toast.

“Thank you, Rainer,” you replied while you chewed, still shocked that your brain had this information when you still had no idea how you got there. “How about we set the table? Smells like daddy is almost done cooking.”

Your kids quickly grabbed the utensils out of the drawer and you reached for the plates in the cabinets. You glanced at Hyunwoo who plated the last of the pancakes. He gathered up the second plate with eggs and bacon in his other hand and walked over to you with a huge smile on his face and gave you a kiss on your forehead. You smiled up at him and he gave you another kiss on the lips. I can get used to this, you thought to yourself.

You gathered around the table with the kids happily eating breakfast as the rain continued to pitter-patter against the window. The conversation in front of you was like background noise as you focused on this little family you didn’t have yesterday. You just took the moment all in just in case it went away as fast as it came to you. You felt a hand on yours and looked over to the owner of it.

Hyunwoo looked at you and saw all the love in his eyes and just hoped that you were giving him that same look. “Everything OK, hun?”

You nodded and smiled. “Just extremely happy.” He smiled back as he affectionately squeezed your hand. You looked down and saw the mate to the band you wore and your smile grew.

Your family finished breakfast and the kids retreated to their rooms since the rain prevented any sort of outdoor activities. You and Hyunwoo cleaned up the kitchen and then retired to the living room hand in hand. After a few minutes of sitting in front of the television nuzzled into his side, a lightbulb went off in your head.

“Hyunwoo, can you help me with something?” you asked. He nodded and you took his hand and headed to the linen closet in the hallway.

You instructed him to collect all the pillows from the rooms and you grabbed all the flat sheets you could find and met him back in the living room. You went back into the kitchen and opened a drawer finding exactly what you needed...rope, spare hooks, and clips.

“A fort?” Hyunwoo questioned when you revealed your plan to him. He arranged the cushions and pillows while you stuck the hooks on the walls and attached the rope to hang the sheets on.

“Yup,” you replied, “I figured it would be a nice set up for a movie binge day with the kids since the rain won’t let up.”

“Shall I get the popcorn started then?” he offered as he chuckled and rubbed the back of his head. You nodded and he went off to the kitchen.

You started draping the sheets over the rope and arranged it around the couch and cushions Hyunwoo had placed. You expanded it so that it was over the TV so it was like a little private theater in your home. Once you were satisfied with how it looked, you were the first to crawl under the sheets. You haven’t done this since you were a kid and were happy to pass this tradition down to your own.

“Wow,” you heard Hyunwoo say as he entered the living room with the bowl of popcorn and bottled waters in hand. You reached and grabbed the items so he could crawl in with you. “You sure you want to call the kids in here? It could just be the two of us,” he said as he continued to crawl towards you so that you were under him.

You adjusted your body so you can comfortably study his face. You caressed his cheek with one hand as your fingers traced over his features; his eyebrows, the bridge of his nose, his lips as a smile formed. He feels real, you told yourself as you stared and got lost in his dark brown eyes, but he wasn’t here yesterday. Where did you come from Hyunwoo? Why do you make me feel this way? I would love to live this life with you, but I don’t even know how I got here. What if this is someone else’s life I’m living?

“I love you,” Hyunwoo told you and pulled you out of your head and back in the moment.

You have never felt your heart flutter so strongly. You thought, I don’t know you, but... “I love you, too,” you said out loud.

He gently lowered himself and your lips connected in the sweetest kiss you have ever felt.

“Wow!” you heard your kids’ voices exclaim.

“Ro! Rain! In here babies,” you called out to them as you and your husband laughed at the interruption and adjusted yourselves to make room for the other loves of your lives. You still didn’t understand how you were acting so naturally, but you’ve decided not to question it anymore.

“This is so cool!” Rosemarie exclaimed.

“I sit next to mama!” Rainer called dibs and crawled quickly in between you and Hyunwoo. Rosemarie squeezed into the space between her brother and her dad as she contently snuggled into her dad's side. There may be distance between you and Hyunwoo, but you never felt more connected. Hyunwoo handed your eldest the remote to pick the first movie.

Minutes into the movie your eyes grew heavy and you gave up the fight to keep them open. The last thing you remembered was feeling a kiss on your forehead, your son’s tiny arms wrapped around your waist, your daughter holding your hand tightly and a heart full of love.

(picture credit to Bored Panda, #2 Building a blanket fort)

Part 2

#Love In Four Ways collab #shownu

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thegreatkaleesi32 · 4 years

Text

Whumpy fluff

Whumptober Day 10: Alt. Prompt: Water

@whumptober2020

Here’s another excerpt from my novel that I’ve been working on all morning. This comes much later than anything else I’ve posted so far, so bear with me. Lena is a scientist (self insert) who’s crashed on their magical island and befriends James.

Summary: James has been rescued and is having a bad time in fever delirium and panicking. His dad (Peter), Lena, and his dog (Delilah), help him through.

CW: Referenced torture, referenced drowning, referenced psychological abuse, aftermath of torture, injuries, fever, broken bones.

...

Lena grunted and pulled at her arm, throwing almost her entire weight into it.

Delilah snarled in response and yanked back.

Lena got her feet out from under her and shoved them into Delilah’s behind. She knew it didn’t hurt her, and she used her placement as leverage to pull Delilah forward. She let out the most un-lady like grunt she’d ever made as she pulled.

Delilah snarled harder and Lena felt her straining.

“I know you’re playing but this is getting ridiculous,” Peter commented.

“Nah…” Lena panted. “We’re just funnin’ around.”

The game was simple. Delilah bit down on Lena’s forearm, holding it in her mouth. It was tight enough that Lena couldn’t get her arm out but not enough to break skin. It wasn’t entirely pleasant, but it wasn’t for Delilah either. If Lena could get her arm out, she won. If she tapped out or their attention got called elsewhere, Delilah won.

This time Lena gave her arm a wide swing, attempting to knock Delilah off her feet. Delilah went with the motion and Lena used her legs to try and hold her down.

Lena was laughing like a giddy maniac and Delilah was snarling and foaming at the mouth. But her tail was wagging and her eyes were sparkling with joy. She understood how it could look like she was being mauled to an on-looker. Delilah did too which was half the fun.

Lena grunted again, letting out more of a primal yell as she finally knocked Delilah off balance. But Delilah held on tight even as she went down.

The next yell wasn’t by either of them though.

It was James.

Delilah immediately released her hold on Lena and they both scrambled to their feet and over to James.

Peter was already there, trying to soothe him with gentle words.

James was unresponsive, muttering to himself and letting out little whimpers and cries of pain.

“Julie, please, Julie…” Lena caught.

James writhed underneath the blanket.

“Dad, please don’t leave me,” He screamed.

“I’m right here. I’m right here, pumpkin,” Peter cooed. “I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

Delilah curled up next to him and let out a whine of distress.

“What is it, girl?”

Delilah put her paw on James’s forehead.

Lena understood and copied Delilah’s motion.

“He’s burning up!”

James, in whatever fever dream he was in, did not like the touch. He wailed and tried to throw her off.

Now that she was leaning over him, she felt the heat radiating off him.

“Peter, draw a bath, we need to cool him down.”

“How cold?”

“Just cool. Ice cold would be dangerous.”

“Sure thing.”

Peter ran into the bathroom.

Delilah howled. It sounded like a wolf summoning her pack at a full moon but was heavy with fear and concern. She rubbed her snout against James’s cheek. He turned his head away, and Lena could feel Delilah’s distress.

Lena began hurriedly pulling off bandages, looking to see if any wounds had festered or if any of the infections had gotten worse.

Delilah tried to help. Lena had her hold James up while she undid the bandages around his chest.

She left the splints on. It was a tough decision, letting the bandages get wet and soggy or risk moving a limb. Soggy bandages could be fixed much easier. She also left his shorts. He would be mortified if they removed them for something as simple as a bath. Not when they had other pairs at the ready.

Peter and Lena were done at about the same time. Peter wrapped his arm around James’s shoulders and the other under his legs and easily lifted him.

James fought against the hold, thrashing against Peter so hard that Peter nearly dropped him.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Peter chanted, but knew James wasn’t hearing them.

Peter lowered James into the tub, keeping his arms out over the lip to preserve the bandages on his hands.

The water must have hurt, but it was impossible to tell if it was enough to arouse James or not. He shrieked again, and flailed his limbs, hitting against Peter and Lena. The two of them had to hold him in the tub. Peter tried to talk over James’s crying and soothe him, but he was clearly elsewhere.

James eventually gave into them. She was horrified that it wasn’t because he understood where he was and what was happening, but rather some other reason that fed into his nightmare. He was mumbling to himself again, and Lena couldn’t make out what he was saying.

Lena rested his head on the lip so his face was upturned and gently scooped water onto his forehead. She made sure it dribbled into his hair, not onto his face. He stiffened at each pass of water. Peter kept his hands on James’s shoulders as a precaution.

She could still feel the unease of the universe. It was thriving off his fear and pain. Was she supposed to save him from drowning in the basement, or from something else?

What she did know what that caring for him felt natural, as if they’d been friends for years. When he was lucid, he was easy to talk to, and she felt closer to him than to anyone she’d met at King’s. He was so vulnerable, and it amazed her that he was able to connect with her through his ordeal.

He really was amazing, and it was a shame he didn’t see it.

After a few minutes of sitting in the cool water, James came to.

His eyes fluttered open. He gasped and tried to clamber out of the tub. He splashed water in his face which made him recoil and clamp his mouth closed.

“James, it’s okay. It’s okay. Easy now. You’re home, pumpkin.” Peter said in the gentlest tone possible. Lena heard the undercurrent of urgency though.

“I’m home?” He asked, looking around the room.

“Yes, James. You’re safe at home. We’re in the water because you have a nasty fever. You were delirious.”

“Where…where’s Julie?”

“She’s not here. She’s not here, sport.”

“Julie?” He asked looking up at Lena, arching his neck bath further.

“No Julie here. Just me. Just Lena.”

“Lena!”

“Right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

James moaned and closed his eyes.

She knew what this meant by now. He thought he was hallucinating or dreaming and it made her heart very heavy.

“Are you still confused, James?” Lena asked.

He nodded slowly. Peter had tried to assure him, but said too many things at once. Peter was quite good at soothing him, but Lena was better somehow, able to tell what he needed in the moment.

“That’s okay. There’s a lot going on right now.”

“There’s…there’s water,” he slurred.

“I know there is,” Lena said softly. “We’re not going to let you drown. The hands on your shoulders aren’t going to hurt you; they’re making sure you stay above water.”

He moaned and slumped into the tub. The water rose and he shrieked, eyes flying open again.

“It’s okay,” Lena intoned. “It’s not going to go any higher.”

James nodded and closed his eyes again. Lena slowly carded through his hair.

“Are you feeling any better?” she asked.

“A little.”

“That’s great. You were probably really warm, huh?”

He nodded again.

“Do you remember where you are?”

“Home.”

“That’s absolutely right. You’re home. You’re safe now. I know the water is scary but we have to cool you off, alright?”

“It hurts,” he said.

“I know. I know it does. When we get you cooled down a bit I can give you some more meds.”

“What do I have to do?”

“You don’t have to do anything. Rest now. Try and relax. Let us handle the rest.”

“But they’ll torture me…you’ll tell Julie and she’ll…”

“You’re home now,” Lena repeated. She looked up at Peter. His jaw was set and his cheeks were red. “You’re home which means you’re safe. No one is going to hurt you.”

“Please…I just…I wanna sleep.”

“I know. When you’re nice and cool we’ll get you into bed and you can sleep as long as you want.”

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“You keep giving me potions…”

“Those have worn off by now, I’m sure. You’re home, remember? So we’re not giving you those potions.”

“It hurts too bad. And I’m scared.”

“I know, James. But we’ll do what we can with the medicines to ease the pain. And I’ll get you some ice, maybe that’ll numb some of the injuries and cool you down. And I know you’re scared, but you’re safe here. We’re protecting you. I want you to try to relax, okay? Think you can do that for me?”

“I…I can try.”

“We’re right here for you. We’re not going anywhere.”

“Promise?”

“Of course I promise,” Lena responded easily.

“And dad?” It took him a moment to be able to focus on his dad.

“I’m not leaving your side.”

He hummed in acknowledgement.

“What else are you confused about?” Lena asked.

“The water,” he said. “Wait, I think you explained that already.”

“I did, but I’m happy to reiterate as many times as you need to feel better.”

“I’m sorry, I’m stupid,”

“Hey,” Lena said. “You’re not. There is tons and tons of proof that pain, fear, fever, injuries, everything you have, affects memory, reasoning, and critical thinking. And other things of course. I’m also sure you have a concussion.”

“What’s that?” James asked.

“It’s when your brain bounces off your skull, essentially leaving it bruised. The same way your chest hurts when your ribs move, your brain hurts when you have to think. And the same way you can’t lift anything heavy, your brain can’t process as much.”

“How…how did that happen? Surely I’d know if my brain was bouncing around.”

Lena chuckled, and didn’t mean to. But miraculously, James did to.

“Getting hit the head. Which I’m assuming happened to you.”

“Is that why I’m so scared, and confused, and weak?”

“I think your concussion is definitely contributing, especially to the confusion. But I attribute the fear to the trauma, the conditioning, and the gas lighting. And I don’t think you are weak. Not being able to use your limbs and being scared are not weak. Neither is asking for help. In fact, asking for help when you need it is the epitome of bravery.”

“What do you mean conditioning?”

Lena sighed. She found herself massaging his shoulders. He leaned into her touch, and she felt knots ease as she dug her fingers into his shoulders.

“It means like training you essentially. They made you fear them and your surroundings. They made you distrusting and skeptical because they wanted you to feel unsafe and afraid.”

“And…and there was another word you said, and I’m not sure what it meant…I don’t remember what it was.”

Lena racked her brain. “It was probably gas-lighting.”

“Yes, that. What is it?”

“It’s like, making you doubt yourself. It’s a form of manipulation that makes your question your own judgement and memory.”

“How…how do you know all this?”

“The terminology, or know they did it?”

“Both.”

Lena moved both her hands to his left side to really work at one of the knots. She was slow going and gentle, because she knew massages could hurt.

“I have friends who took psych classes and shared their knowledge with me. And I know they did it to you because of how uncertain you are. You literally don’t believe your eyes that you’re home. Which tells me they made you hallucinate and tricked you so you stopped believing what your senses told you.”

He hummed and looked up at his dad. James’s face fell and he looked down at his chest. He must have seen how upset his dad was.

It did warm her to see how caring he was, but also made her heart even heavier as didn’t want him to feel guilty.

“James, do you remember the other day? When your dad told you about your official nickname?” Lena asked.

“Yes,” He said.

“You’re dad said that making you feel weak was nothing more than a technique.”

James nodded.

“I know you don’t believe him.”

“I’ve been trying to hide it.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want you to be upset.”

“James, I could never be upset with you about that,” Peter assured.

“It’s going to take time to believe us and feel safe,” Lena said. “It’s sad for us, because we want you to feel better and can’t do much in the meantime. But you can’t protect us from that feeling. The best thing you can do is tell us what’s wrong, or that you don’t believe us because then we get to help and everyone feels better and endorphins get released at all the love and affection.”

He smiled again.

“What are endorphins?”

“Happy chemicals. They literally bind to the happy receptors in your brain. Or maybe they get released into the brain? I don’t remember exactly. Or hold on, they might be a family of happy chemicals. I was never good with remembering my hormones.”

She laughed at herself. James did too.

And she loved this about him. He loved her science jargon which seeped into her regular speech. And he asked her what they meant so he could better communicate. She also wondered if it distracted him from the pain and fear.

She shifted to his right shoulder. He was indeed releasing tension in his shoulders, and this was the most relaxed she’d seen him in a long time. Even in the water, which was incredible.

“Do you remember the point I was trying to make?” She asked. “Because I don’t.”

James started laughing again.

“Oh, yes,” Lena said. “I got sidetracked. They wanted to break you down mentally because they wanted you to surrender. There’s three main components to that. First, physical. All the physical pain reinforces the other two components, makes you miserable, and frankly makes it harder to think, which makes the other two components work better. The other two are mind games. Gaslighting. They made you doubt yourself and your perceptions so they could make you feel worthless. And they induced, well, it’s called learned-helplessness, which is pretty self explanatory. Make you feel reliant on your captors, which induces shame and fear, so they could manipulate you into surrendering.”

“You know a lot about kidnapping people,” James commented.

Lena snorted in laughter. Peter smiled and looked up at her.

“I read a lot,” She answered.

“About kidnapping?” James asked.

“Back to my point,” Lena spoke purposefully fast to make them think she was deliberately changing the subject. She had no qualms about sharing her reading history, but figured that might not be a good conversation to have with James.

And to her great relief, James chuckled.

“All these feelings, the confusion, fear, and doubt were tactics they used to break you,” Lena said. “They are not weakness. It’s okay to tell us about those feelings. It’s the same as telling us your back hurts.”

“Lena, thank you. I think…I think that finally started to sink in.”

“I’m glad.”

“You’re very articulate.”

Lena smiled. Her hands were aching now, so she stopped her massaging. Instead she poured more water on his forehead. The rest of his skin was cool now, except his forehead.

“What else can we do to help?” Lena asked gently.

James shook his head every so slightly.

“That’s okay. Just hang in there. Do you want me to tell you what I remember about brain chemistry and hormones?”

“Yes please.”

“Okay, fair warning, this is digging through some ancient knowledge. Like we are going way back into the filing cabinets.”

“That’s okay, I probably won’t remember anyway,” James answered.

“I guess that’s a good point.”

So she named as many hormones as she could, starting with dopamine and serotonin. But she didn’t know as much about those, so mentioned the stress pathways with cortisol, and eventually found herself talking about estrogen and progesterone. She could see that Peter was uncomfortable about female sex hormones, but Lena remembered those the best.

James slowly drifted back into unconsciousness.

“I’m summoning Julie.” Peter said. His words were curt and harsh but his eyes were brimmed with tears.

“I still don’t know about that.”

“I wasn’t asking you.”

“Alright.” Lena said, doing her best to hide her annoyance. She knew James was suffering and of course she wanted it to end, but having Julie come here would traumatize him all over again.

“I’ll take all precautions. And when he awakes healed, we will tell him we found a magic potion. Or Tom invented one. Or we got it from the spirits. Whatever we need to say.”

Lena nodded. There was no arguing with him.

“Can he be transported to a different room when Julie comes?” Peter asked.

“Sure. Just as long as you’re careful.”

Peter nodded. He set up towels on the bed while Lena sat with James, still combing her fingers through his hair.

They pulled him out when he started shivering. They quickly tagged teamed the event, having grown used to the most efficient way to dry him off, put disinfectant and wound cream everywhere it was needed and bandage everything again.

They rested him in the bed, above the covers this time, and placed a cool cloth on his forehead.

It warmed up instantly.

Peter and Lena both knew they were in for a long night. And Lena changed her mind about summoning Julie.

#whumptober2020 #no.10 #alternate prompt #water #alt prompt: water #torture aftermath #aftermath of trauma #bathing #caretaker #injured whumpee #comfort #fever #referenced torture #referenced past abuse #writing #whump #OCs

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nightwingshero · 3 years

Note

❛❛ I’m sorry. I should have asked first, just… it reminded me of you. ❜❜

So...this got uh...kinda long. What was supposed to just start as a prompt ended up being a possible chapter in the future fic for my MCU OC, Camille. This is...rough, its my first time writing for MCU, so just warning you. But thank you for the prompt hun!

There were some things that never changed, things that were just universal no matter who or what you are. Things that people could bond over, connect with, and laugh or show empathy from experience. Standing on your feet for 12 plus hours was one of those things, especially when you wore flats that provided little to no support whatsoever. Which was, usually, the predicament I found myself in.

Huffing a bit from frustration and exhaustion, I slid the key in and unlocked the door, opening as relief flooded over me. There was nothing like coming home to a dark house with nothing but calm when you’ve been running around, helping people in distress all day. It wasn’t like it used to be, not when I worked at hospitals and clinics, and part of me was ready to trade in the suits and such for scrubs again. It was simpler then.

I pulled my messenger bag gently over my head as I dropped the keys in the bowl on my counter. Setting the bag in a bar stool near the island, I flipped the remaining lights on in the kitchen, slowly making my way to the den. Grabbing a remote, I quickly turned on some smooth music, something old and relaxing from my favorite playlist before my fingers found my climbing earrings. I sighed in relief when the weight of them lifted, leaving the lobes a bit sore and making me rub them as I placed the jewelry on an end table. In one swift move, I quickly kick my flats off and enjoy the black cool floor on my aching feet as they lightly smack against the wood as I walked in deeper, until the panel on the wall began to blink.

“Incoming call from Tony Stark.” The A.I. announced as I approached, reading the screen only for my fear to be confirmed. Looking out the huge windows, I glared at the small garden that had been recently added. The sinking in my gut was dread, I knew that, but I wasn’t sure if it was because of what happened just a month ago or if because of the long day I had; leaving me with almost zero energy and zero patience. So, I shut my eyes, take a deep breath, and count to ten before sealing my fate.

“Answer.”

It’s only a second before the bliss of being alone with my music is disrupted by his voice, a blue hologram of him with his hands clasped behind him making me step back a bit in shock. That’s new. “You know, I thought for sure that you would invite me to come with you to run off to Germany. Personally, I’m a bit offended, because it’s my house—"

“It’s actually Pepper’s house.” I corrected as I gathered myself, shaking off the surprise as I moved to the couch and shrugged off my cardigan. Tony walked with me, his image blurring out just a bit as he crossed in front of the dark television. “Her name is on the deed.”

“Technicalities.” He replied, his voice taking its natural dismissive tone. Tony turned to me quickly on is heel, his head immediately cocking to the side. “How is Germany?”

“A lot friendlier since the last time I was here.” It’s out of my mouth before I can stop it, and if I had any energy, I would attempt to smooth it over, but it was the lack thereof that caused the slip to begin with.

I look at him as I dropped the cardigan on the back of the couch, and his head hangs for a second before he sniffs—quickly raising his head and bouncing right back. “As long as you don’t get too fed up with the schnitzel.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I offered a light laugh, and even I can hear the fatigue with my own ears, but Tony says nothing, going on as if he didn’t notice and I’m thankful for it. The last thing I wanted was Tony Stark playing a mother hen and making us both uncomfortable. I frowned, however, and quickly checked my watch. “Are you in California or New York? It’s a bit late for you, isn’t it?”

“Right, you know I’m one to call it a night early. Must be the old age.” His hands come back around as he snaps his fingers, and a fist hitting an open palm as he fidgeted, giving the place another onceover. “I’ll pretend that’s concern and not you trying to brush me off.”

“Are you always this wishful in your thinking, Tony?”

“I don’t answer rhetorical questions.”

“That’s good; they’re not meant to be.” Crossing my arms, I tilted my head as I squinted at him. “Though that one wasn’t rhetorical.” His jaw ticks as he glances towards the windows—that start at the ceiling and don’t end until the floor…walls of glass. I wonder briefly if he can even see the garden, the beautiful sitting area Pepper wanted, if he can trace the lines of rain against the glass as it began to pour.

Clicking his tongue, his head whipped back around with a look on his face that I couldn’t exactly place. “I’ve been thinking, and I think I should propose to Pepper. What are your thoughts?”

“Um,” I blinked, a bit taken off guard by the turn of conversation. “You...were…aren’t you guys still on break?”

“You know, I’m thinking…something nice.” I frowned a bit, his tone seeming a bit distant as he rambled, as if he was distracted. “How would you do it if you were proposing to her?” he asked as he took a step closer.

I raised my brow at him as I scoffed. “Would you want me to marry her for you, too?”

“No. Why, would you?” he squinted his eyes, turning his head a bit as he eyed me suspiciously. Taking in my deadpan expression, he quickly continued, pacing as he spoke. “Right. So, big grand gesture—"

“Not sure that’s the way to go. Remember the rabbit?” Tony winced a bit at the reminder and I sighed. “Or you can just take her to a nice place for dinner and do it a bit more privately.” A second or two went by before he shook his head.

“You know, I’m playing it out in my head—”

“For a few seconds?”

“And it’s not really working for me.”

Laughing, I nod lightly as I sit on the arm of the sofa. “Not enough AC/DC?”

“I need something a bit…bigger.” He mumbled as he began to fidget with something on his side, the sounds of clattering on a workbench adding to the music that was playing. “Fireworks. Put that on the list.”

“Fireworks, got it.” It made me happy, seeing him a bit more lighthearted, but I knew there was something just underneath. He wasn’t one to call for no reason. So I make the decision to take the first step. “Why are you calling, Tony?”

Another click of his tongue, more glances around, and I’m not sure if it’s the room he’s in that he’s watching or mine, but his hand comes up to his face as the other arm crosses over his chest. “I’ve been busy.”

“Do I have to guess? Is this going to be a ‘two truths and a lie’ scenario?” I asked jokingly, but he ignores me as he continues.

“I’ve been keeping out of trouble—”

“Lie. You made that easy.”

“Also been training the kid.”

I hummed, nodding a bit. “Okay, truth. How is he?”

“We’ve been working directly—”

“Lie.”

Tony sighed as he looked at me, but he was only met with a raised brow. “Happy has been communicating with him since the Accords. He wants to be an Avenger, wants something bigger, thinks he’s ready for it.” It grows a bit quieter between us as Sinatra begins to play in the background, but it’s not the peace I had before. Not when there’s weight in my chest.

“Are you going to let him?”

“What team?” Tony muttered, and I could hear it still. The bitterness, the hurt. I only look down, picking at the pastel pink fingernail polish that was beginning to chip at the edges. “No. There’s no team to invite him to.”

“That’s not true, Tony.” I sighed, glancing up at him with a soft expression. “There’s…there’s still something. What’s the real reason?”

“My phone keeps blinking.” He replied with a hint of frustration in his voice as the conversation takes another turn, his hands disappearing in his pockets. Another turn on his heels, as if the conversation was just following his step, and if the music wasn’t playing, I would bet anything that I would’ve been able to hear the slap of his expensive shoes against the floor on his side of the call. “Ross keeps calling, you know? I keep putting him on hold.”

There’s a prickling feeling on the back of my neck that’s accompanied with a shiver down my spine. Dangerous waters, that’s where we’re headed, and its so damn obvious, I should have seen it. Because that’s how Tony always talked in situations such as these. Always a bit misleading to others but him, because they’re points he’s making before he gets to the core of the issue.

“You’re not answering him?”

“Rayna isn’t cooperating.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it, and maybe back then, he’d be more urgent, more upset, but he’s not. He’s neutral, and there could have been a micro version of a shrug and smile if my eyes weren’t so fooled by the dim lights. “It’s Rayna. Of course she isn’t cooperating, there’s nothing to cooperate with. Asgardians aren’t exactly ones to quickly bow to demands, you really think Thor would sign? She’s not an Avenger, Tony. She says it all the time. Ross has nothing he can say—”

“He wants her to sign—”

“No.” It sounded firmer than I intended, but again, that’s the fatigue. Or maybe it isn’t, who was to say? “Not this again. Tony, don’t make her sign. I’m not losing someone else—”

“Bigger picture.” His hands go wide again as he takes a step back. “She’s working with Vision, helping track the Quinjet. Which, by the way,” Another turn, almost a spin as he looked over his shoulder and pointed at me. “Has stopped traveling. She believes he may have crash landed somewhere. If he didn’t jump out.” Tony sighed, and that was when I gauged the stress level, and it’s confirmed as he rubs his eyes. “He wants an Asgardian, someone on the team because Point Break is surfing his way…wherever.” He turned, and at that point he was making me dizzy. I wished he would just stand still. “He’s always on my phone and I can’t make the blinking stop—”

“Because you can’t figure out how to answer a phone—?”

“Because he wants Rayna to sign, and she claims she’s not part of the team. He wants her on the team, though, there’s no backing out of that one. It’s like a recruiting campaign,” he waves is hand, as if envisioning it there, “‘Please join’, in big bold letters. Because we’re short on members last I checked and yesterday, everyone in the Prison of Azkaban was busted free. You hear about that, by the way?” I did. I remembered the breaking news as they announced how dangerous enhanced humans escaped, calling them and Captain America fugitives, and how it was still dominating headlines as the search continued. Most wanted. Tony didn’t give me the chance to answer as he continued. “He wants her to commit to it, wants the extra protection, manpower so-to-speak, since we’re already down a Hulk and Asgardian god…and because he wants you back at the compound.” He finished. I frowned as I glanced down. It was hard for me to be there after everything that had happened at the airport. A month, that was what I was able to get before I was being called back. It was only a matter of time, and I knew that. I was just hoping that I would be more prepared when it did. “And I do, too.” Tony added.

Glancing up at him, I watched as he pointed in the general direction of the coffee table where my tablet laid dark. “Rayna…is going to do what she wants regardless of what Ross wants. She didn’t take a stance a month ago, that hasn’t changed. It would be entertaining to see Ross try and force her, Tony.” I replied as I reached for the device, waking it and putting in my password as Tony worked on his end. “But I’m assuming you need me for something else, then.” I added, my eyes shifting back to him as Tony seemed to weigh my words before he finally spoke, his voice light and smooth as usual.

“I’m sending you schematics.”

Sure enough, his data and plans were popping up in front of me in seconds. He was unusually quiet as I scrolled through, trying to make sense of what was in front of me. But piece by piece, it began to click slowly, and I shook my head in tired frustration. “I can’t read this—”

“It’s fine, just look at the pictures. That’s the fun part.”

“Tony, I’m not an engineer, I’m a doctor—” I replied as I looked back at him. He stepped forward, a more serious glint in his eye.

“A doctor that’s going to help me evolve medical technology.” Pointing at the tablet, he continued. “Those are the plans for Rhodey’s leg braces.” My eyes widened, and I glanced back down to study them more closely. “Imagine offering top notch, advanced technology to help people walk again. We take that, develop it—”

“It would change lives.” I murmured. “Not just…imagine the things this could apply to if we built on it, expanded the field.”

“That’s the idea.” Tony clapped his hands together, making me jump a bit. “But my Rhodey first. How fast can you get here?”

I frowned as I looked up at him. “Tony, he has doctors there that can help you—”

“It’s finished, Camille.” He cut me off. “I have a prototype and I want someone here that I can trust to help me with this.” The words throw me off a bit as I took him in, and I knew deep down that he was searching for someone to trust, someone to help him…someone to fill the void that Steve secretly left. Sighing, I nod slowly.

“I can look for flights in the morning.”

“No need, I’ll send a jet. Tomorrow afternoon work for you? Great.” And without another word, he disappeared as the line ended, the music the only sound in the room. The tips of my fingers tap against the cool tablet in my hands, contemplating a bit before gently placing next to my earrings on the end table. It became irritating when I realized that the music was no longer enough, and needing something more, I flipped the tv on, the news immediately flashing on—blue headlines going on and on about the things that were happening.

I was about to lay on the couch, settling for perhaps sleeping there instead of dragging myself to the bedroom when I saw it. Frowning, I see the way the lights from the tv reflected against something wet against the floor. My feet protest as I rise, walking towards it as my arms cross against my chest. A drop from the rain is the first thing that comes to mind to try to rationalize, to explain it, even though I know it didn’t start until after I had come in—I had just missed it. Looking up, my head tilts back to eye the ceiling as I walk closer, searching for a sign of leaking, the thought ridiculous to me with it being so new, but stranger things have happened.

When it seems clean, I glanced back down and stop in my tracks as I get a better view. The shade kept changing with the light of the tv, but it settled on purple as the blue shone bright on my screen, and my stomach sank. Everything else is forgotten, trained and ingrained instincts are quick to kick in, and I began to follow the trail, my weight shifting to the balls of my feet—never making a sound. Once I begin to pass it, I grabbed the closest thing I could use as a weapon, an oddly curved lamp that was heavier than expected, and I raise it in preparation.

The trail was easy to follow, even if some drops were lighter than others, and part of me was annoyed that while the clean up seemed to be minimal, it would still be a nuisance. Another thing that I didn’t really have the energy for, including the potential break in I was facing. My heart raced, knowing that I wasn’t here alone, immediately hating every horror movie I even remotely enjoyed. This was not entertaining; this was not a thrill I cared to chase. I had just wanted to maybe enjoy a glass of wine before going to sleep. That’s all I had wanted when I pulled into the driveway. I would trade to be back at the Avengers compound instead of dealing with a potential Michael Myers.

It was the study. That was where the trail led me, and I could even see a dim light shining a bit. Swallowing, I count slowly to myself, remembering everything I could about my training. Yes, S.H.I.E.L.D. was gone. Yes, I was mostly doing doctor things now. But I reminded myself how well matched I was against Natasha, how I had even put Steve on his ass once or twice. And I could hear Rayna already insisting that I should just do it—get it over with. A rush of air escapes as I let out a heavy exhale and slam against the door, finding it only gently closed, and raise the lamp higher, ready to attack the first person I laid my hands on.

A hand quickly grabs my wrist, gently stopping me as I stumbled, my eyes going wide as I quickly scan the room. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to smile or grimace, but his face twists a bit either way as he waves lazily as Naomi kneels next to him, her watching me closely. Eyeing the wings that seem to be sparking, the books, pens, the computer, and other things knocked to the ground, including the lamp on the desk. Huffing, I pulled my arm away from Natasha’s grasp and narrow my eyes at Sam as the adrenaline starts to settle.

“What the hell?” I breathed out, looking around to find that they weren’t alone. It hurt, the way my heart squeezed as his blue eyes caught my green ones, the way they just locked and refused to leave. But I blinked, forced myself to focus, because we were in Tony and Pepper’s house and the last time I checked, they were still fugitives.

“Hey there, short stuff.” Sam forced out, an attempt of any kind of humor is lost within the pain in his voice. “Long time, no see.”

“Sure is one hell of a way to greet somebody.” Naomi added as she eyed the lamp.

I turned to Natasha, bewilderment still apparent on my face. “Explain? Please?”

“We need your help.” She replied as she eyed me carefully. “Sam got injured during—”

“The escape?” I breathed out as my arms fell to my sides, the lamp slipping through my fingers. “And you’re here—”

“We didn’t have anywhere else to go.” His strong voice cut through and pulling my attention back. It was something I couldn’t never quite describe, his voice. Always commanding attention, oozing authority, making you want to follow him to ends of the Earth, and still be so soft and compassionate altogether. Or perhaps that was just my warped view, a point that was brought to my attention by Vision once, because I put Steve on such a high pedestal. Steve continued, his tone a bit softer. “We didn’t have anyone else to ask.”

I swallowed, mostly because my mouth was dry, but also because I was so close to word vomiting—things that were left unsaid, things I’ve been regretting saying in the first place, or just maybe not wording it differently. It goes unsaid from Sam, but even I could hear a sarcastic remark hanging in the silence between all of us, his tongue being held. I couldn’t tell who silenced it: Steve or Natasha.

My eyes drift back to Sam, looking over him and seeing the blood dripping from his fingers as he held his side. “What happened?”

“Took a bit of a hit.” Sam shrugged. “You should see the other guy.”

“I see the carpet you’re bleeding on.” Out of the corner of my eye I could see a little quirk of Nat’s lips, a smirk playing dangerously as I stepped forward. “You know this…”

“You could get in trouble for helping us, I know.” Steve stepped around the desk, coming closer, and my heart almost jumped to my throat. “I don’t feel good about asking this of you, but when I said—”

“You’re fugitives, Steve.” I replied, looking up at him, searching his eyes and finding the hint of green there. “There’s no one else that can do this…I’m sorry for that.”

I’m sorry for not choosing you.

It’s on the tip of my tongue, but not even fatigue would let me be that loose-lipped. Some things were better left unsaid, timing had a way of determining that. But he offered a small smile, nothing happy but more empathetic, more understanding, and maybe he was sorry too.

“So?” Naomi asked with her arms crossed as she stood. “You gonna fix him or not?”

I turned back to Sam with a sigh, eyeing him up and down with the knowledge that my night of taking care of people wasn’t at all over. “I’ll need you to go to the bathroom so I can fix you there. You’re going to need stiches.”

“Do the glowy-hand thing, I won’t have to move.” Sam insisted, a hint of a whine in his voice and I rolled my eyes.

“And I’m exhausted, you’re going to need help. Plus, you’re getting blood all over the carpet. Pepper is going to kill me. So, bathroom. Now.” His eyes widened a bit as he muttered to himself, a bit shocked by my urgency, and I could hear the tiniest of laughs escaping from Natasha. Naomi even smirked a bit. I couldn’t help it, honestly. When you worked in the ER, in war zones, places where you had to put your foot down…it just slipped out in times like these. Plus, the lack of sleep didn’t help at all.

Steve quickly stepped forward, wrapping Sam’s arm around his neck as he lifted, helping him before I had the chance to. He glanced at me as I stared, watching him support Sam as if he weighed nothing, and a beat goes by before I realized that they’re waiting for me to show them the way. Avoiding Nat’s knowing smirk, I hurried out of the room, Steve quick on my heels as I lead him to the master bath. It was big enough to allow me to work—honestly it was bigger than my own kitchen in Brooklyn, which I found unnecessary. But of course, most things with Tony were.

Flipping the lights on, I gesture towards the vanity stool as I began searching for the first aid kit. Grunted in pain as Steve sat him down as I dug through underneath the cabinet. “Take the armor off so I have better access to the wound. Has it began clotting at all?” I asked as I pulled out a bag, unzipping it and checking the contents to make sure everything was there.

“Well…” Sam forced out as Steve helped in removing the wings. “That’s a good question. Haven’t exactly looked at it. Just wrapped it.” Wincing, he pulled off the top layer, revealing a t shirt beneath, dry and wet blood caked onto the ripped part of the side.

“You haven’t changed the bandage?” I asked, bewildered. When neither of them answer, I sighed again and glanced at Steve. “There’s some food in the kitchen, help yourselves. I’m sure you’re all hungry. I’ll get Sam taken care of.”

My heart leaps when he places his hand on my shoulder, giving a squeeze. “Thank you.”

“Hey, you better save me some!” Sam called after the Captain’s back. “Super soldiers can eat, don’t let the whole ‘super-hot bod’ thing fool you.” He added after Steve left the door cracked, disappearing into the rest of the house.

The wound could have been worse, in all honesty. Some of the blood was clotted and dried for the most part, but I did my best with cleaning it. A string of curses and him jumping was what I was met with as I continued, and I thought that it would only get worse when I began stitching him. It didn’t though, however, and it shocked me a bit how he seemed calmer as the needle pierced through his skin. “You sure you can’t make your hands do the glow thing?” he asked, his voice a bit strained. I glanced up at him only briefly before focusing on the task at hand.

“I can’t, unfortunately.” Tugging the thread through, I pull it tight and bring the needle around, pushing it back into his skin. “Every time I use it, it takes a toll on me, drains me of my energy, or at least that’s what Rayna and Vis say. I have to be on top of my game for it. Something I’m not really in the condition to be doing at the moment. I’m sorry, but I’ve had a long day and the energy I would need is gone.”

“Well, we’re known for perfect timing.”

Part of me wants to laugh at his joke, the sarcastic comment coming out lightly despite the pain, but I don’t. I choose to focus on stitching him up instead, it’s easier than trying to create small talk around the weight of guilt I feel, or the elephant in the room that’s just waiting to be addressed. The fresh blood began to cover the gloves I had slipped on, the blue turning a dark red, hints of purple here and there. I had never been as put-off by blood as I was now, his blood on my hands…it only made me feel worse. It reminded me of what happened at the airport, how I felt partially responsible for it, and the blood was on my hands just like the others. Blood of friends. I had to quickly shove down the image of Rhodes as I finished up, pulling gauze and tape out of the bag before wrapping it for him.

“All done. Need help getting up?” I asked as I stood, carefully taking the latex gloves off and he nodded. Throwing the gloves in the trash, I offered my hand and used my weight as leverage as he staggered to his feet. As he moved, I wished I hadn’t sent Steve away so hastily, not thinking that maybe Sam would need help walking. I stepped forward, my hands reaching out to catch him. “Hold on—”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. Thinks that just because he’s a super soldier, the rest of us break easily.” Sam waved me off with a breathless laugh. “Still on my left though.” He smirked as he pointed down, gesturing to his injury. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“I’m sure he’s already said it.” I smiled as I walked with him, matching his slower pace as he tried to be mindful of his new stitches. “And if he hasn’t, he won’t forget to mention it now that you’re not bleeding all over the place.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty hard to ignore.”

I smiled a bit as I stayed near, just in case he needed my help, but he seemed to be doing fine on his own. It was weird being in their company again, mostly because it seemed more like a blast from the past, like going home for the first time after being gone for some time. Almost like when I went to visit my parents, returning to something that felt so naturally like home. It’s odd to me that this shouldn’t feel like this, that we’re all technically enemies by government standards. It makes my heart tug painfully as we enter the kitchen.

Steve was sitting at the island, in the stool next to my bag as Nat dug through the fridge. Sam opts for sitting at the small table to the far right and joining Naomi, not bothering to attempt to hoist himself into a barstool, which I’m thankful for. The last thing I wanted was to fix his stitches. I sighed, looking around as they looked at me, Natasha just glancing over her shoulder as she continued making…whatever it was she decided on. Shifting a bit under the weight of his gaze, I rubbed my arm as I spoke. “So, you guys can obviously use what you need—clean up, eat, what have you, but it’s only for the night. I’m…unfortunately, I won’t still be here after tomorrow afternoon—”

“We know.” Nat replied as she placed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich cut diagonally on plate in front of Steve, moving to do the same to Sam as she looked at me. “We got here just before you did, so we heard the call from Tony.”

“That’s…” Awkward. Creepy. Disturbing. Violating. “Great.” Clearing my throat, I continued. “I have to pack and clean up the study, so that nothing is really out of place. But help yourselves…just don’t tell anyone you’re here.”

Natasha turned, a smirk gracing her lips. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with us. Don’t wanna be a tattletale, do we?”

“Right.” I replied slowly, not really sure how to read the terrain of the situation.

“It’s fine.” Steve cut in, my eyes returning to his. “We don’t want to do anything to jeopardize you or cause issues.” Throwing Sam and Nat a look, he continued. “We’ll behave and we appreciate the help.”

“No problem. I just…” I glanced around the room awkwardly. “I wish it was on better terms. But please make yourselves at home.”

If there was anything else to be said, it was silenced as I turned on my heel and all but rushed out. I wouldn’t ever really call it hiding, but deep down, that was exactly what I was doing. Running from the situation and hiding from the confrontation with Steve. Things I wanted to avoid the best I could, because I didn’t know what to say or how to say it. The things that were left unsaid no longer applied, because those were words that could have saved the situation, could have saved our team, and now they were nothing but ‘what-if’s’, ghosts haunting me in the shadows when my mind would wander.

The bedroom felt safe as I walked around, pulling my bags from the closet and setting them on the bed. I’m thankful to have something to keep my hands busy that didn’t require me to get blood on them, something mundane and somewhat normal. I don’t keep track of what’s getting put in, just putting books, my makeup bag, and clothes on the bed to be sorted and packed neatly together, and it’s a ritual I was so caught up in that I nearly jump out of my skin when there’s a knock on the door.

Gasping a bit, I turned as I held a hoodie against my chest out of fear, as if it were armor or a shield, but I just see Steve leaning against the doorframe, his arm crossed—something he’s done a thousand times since I’ve known him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to see if you needed a hand before we headed out.”

“Oh.” I breathed out, not realizing I was holding it, and turned back to my bag as I continued folding the hoodie in my hands. “I think I got it but thank you. I didn’t pack too much. Wasn’t really planning on staying too long, if I’m being honest.”

“You’re always honest.” His voice was light, it’s the first telltale sign that it’s a joke, but it made me freeze for just a second anyway. Honest to a fault, truly, even when I shouldn’t. Steve sighed as he stepped next to me, his gaze cast down as I glanced at him. “Guess I should have done the same, huh?” I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out, so Steve just looked out the window across the room before continuing. “I sent Tony…well, I guess a letter won’t fix this, but…”

“It’s a start.” I finished for him as I tucked the hoodie in the bad, grabbing a shirt as I kept folding. “Sometimes just saying the things that you didn’t get the chance to can be freeing, Steve. You were honest in the end, and I think that counts as something.” I could feel his gaze on me, but I feign ignorance as I stuff the shirt in with a little bit more hast than necessary, but I wasn’t ready for the weight of his pretty blues. Not like this. He only hummed, his gaze shifting once more.

Movement caught my eye, however, as he reached for a book, and I believe it’s going to be just something that I used for mindless reading, but its not. The blood in veins ran cold as he eyed the journal in his hands, delicately opening it and leafing through the pages before coming to a stop at the last one that was written in. The handwriting is different, the doodles more sloppy and less skilled compared to the owner’s, I know this. But that’s not why I was so embarrassed, why my heart is hammering hard in my chest.

“I’m sorry.” The words fall gracelessly off my tongue as my heart hammered in my chest. “I should have asked first, just… it reminded me of you.” The explanation seemed to fall on deaf ears, however, because he doesn’t seem to acknowledge me as he reads.

“You created a list.” He finally speaks, his eyes remaining on the page. “The doodles are cute.”

Licking my lips, I turn more towards him, shifting my weight from one foot to another. “Yeah…just some things I think you could look into after…” After everything was fixed. My heart sunk with the unspoken words, the realization that my hope was fruitless weighing heavy in the air. “I’m really sorry, Steve. It wasn’t mine to take…and…” The snap of the book closing is louder and harsher to me only because I want it to be, but I know he’s careful as sets the book back down. The anger isn’t there, not like I imagined when I played this out so many times in my head, hoping he would come running to see me some sleepless nights.

When I finally gathered the courage to look up at him, I’m met with a small and soft smile—his most signature smile, if I was being honest. “It means a lot, thank you. I’ll start on it.”

The words felt so final, too final, and panic rose into my chest, accompanied with the fear that I won’t see him again, not anytime soon. As he took a step, I reached out and wrapping my arms around him, squeezing hard and wishing to never have to let him go. “Steve. I…” My voice breaks, my vision becoming blurry with unshed tears. With a deep inhale, I try to gather myself. “I’m sorry. About the Accords, about Bucky, everything.” His gaze is piercing and unwavering, and I swallow and try to force myself to continue. “I…wish that things were different. Had ended differently. I just miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” He replied softly, his arms hugging me tightly as he pressed his face in my hair.

“It’s not fair.” I mumbled as I buried my face against his chest. “I should have taken your side, Steve, and stood by you.”

“You did what you thought was right.” The compassion and softness in his voice shocked me, and I feel it’s something I don’t deserve. “I won’t hold that against you.”

“I didn’t want this. This isn’t at all what I had signed up for, even though I should have known it would come to this. I thought this was the bigger picture, what was right for all of us. I didn’t realize what it would cost. They drew the line in the sand, and I caved.”

“Well, you’re excellent at trying to stay to the sidelines.” He laughed, making me smile genuinely for the first time in weeks. His fingers gently brushed my hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “There was no winning for any of us, Camille. Not with us divided.”

I swallowed, leaning back a bit to look up at him, hints of sadness in his eyes. It wasn’t something alien to me, it was something I saw often when I first saw him after waking from the ice. The loss and regret, and I knew deep in my bones what was happening. Licking my lips, I fingered parts of his uniform as I spoke. “What if…what if we didn’t have to be?” I asked, looking up at him from under my lashes as I tested the waters. His brows furrowed in confusion, so I continued. “Divided, I mean. What if we didn’t have to be, Steve? What if…what if I went with you? What if I wasn’t here when Happy came for me tomorrow?” My voice was soft, so soft, but it felt like it rang out loudly in the silent room. His face molded, reformed into something sadder, something with soft regret.

“You know I can’t let you do that.” How could a whisper hit so hard? Feel so final and unwavering? “Not with what you and Tony are doing. Not with what you’re going to accomplish.”

“Steve—” I went to protest but he looked down, holding my hands in his as he rubbed his thumb against my skin.

“Can you say that it wouldn’t weigh on you? Knowing that you could help all of those people and deciding to go on the run instead? Becoming a fugitive, where you wouldn’t be able to help anyone?” My mouth opened to say that I could, but nothing comes out as he looked back up at me. And just like that, my heart sank even lower, even as he offered the smallest of smiles. “He needs you, you know that. Someone’s gotta be there when he needs it, help him stay straight. He’s…lost enough people, Camille. The team is what’s left, and that team needs—”

“I’m not you.” I retorted, squeezing his hands. “I’m not leading, I’m—”

“There. Supporting and doing what you have to.”

“Steve?” My voice broke, just like my heart as I searched for any sign of hesitation, any hint of uncertainty, but I found none. It’s broken when Natasha called for him, announcing they should be leaving soon, and my panic only rose as he glanced out the door. The look on his face was something I didn’t want to see: resignation and acceptance. I shook my head slightly, because it wasn’t how I wanted this to happen. I didn’t want this to be our goodbye.

“I have to go.” He replied as he looked at me, but I couldn’t bear to return his gaze as I looked to the side. The rain had stopped, but the drops still slid gracefully down the glass of the window, creating trails and following lines laid before them—destined paths. “I left Tony a phone with the letter, just in case. If you need me…I’ll be there.” I tried to say something, truly I did, but I’m too in shock to say it. My tongue lays numb in my mouth, I couldn’t feel it, and in the corner of my eye I could see him raise a hand, only to hesitate and drop it. My eyes squeeze tightly shut as I feel the ghost of his lips in my hair, and tears finally fall again, and I could have sworn I had heard the murmur of ‘I love you’, but I couldn’t be sure. The ringing in my ears seemed to drown the world out.

The second he stepped away, cold air hits my body hard, making me aware of the warmth I have lost. I tried to breathe, tried to capture what was left of my control. A few moments go by until it hits me, the panic, the need to hug him one more time to tell him I loved him rushes over me. My head whipped around, my eyes widening. “Steve!” I called, parts of my throat stinging from the force of it and the lack of use. My heart hammered as I wait for a response, but there’s no answer, just silence.

“Steve, wait!” I called again as my body went into autopilot, demanding his warmth again, craving it. The tears are from my panic and the brokenness of my heart as I searched the dark house, my feet slapping loudly against wood, making it echo off the walls. The study is the first place I check, only to find everything back in place, the blood all gone. Sam’s wings are gone from the bathroom as I popped my head in, hoping to see proof that they were here, the traces would mean they weren’t really gone. That they were here. “Steve!” I cried as I entered the kitchen.

My bag laid innocently in the barstool; the dishes long gone from before. The tv and music still played, the earrings and tablet just as I left it. The only thing out of place was the journal, and I try to remember him taking it, and I come up empty handed—I guess I was so caught up in the moment to notice, too distracted by the whirlwind of emotions I was feeling. I approached the counter, noticing how a pen seemed to be trapped between the closed journal, a clear indicator. My fingers brushed against the edges carefully before I opened it, immediately falling to the page the pen laid on.

There was paper torn close to the spine, indicating a page had been ripped out as I lightly traced the uneven edges. It was then that I realized what was missing, and I didn’t know if it helped or made everything worse. Him taking the list, taking the things I had created as a reminder, it made me hope for his return and fear his absence even more. It was the note that was the end of me as I leaned against the counter for support, my fingers running along the ink on the paper. The memories were bittersweet, both making me smile and making my heart hurt, remembering him at my childhood home and showing him the collection that I had kept. Robert Frost. Edgar Allen Poe. Emily Dickenson. Even some of T.S Elliot. Books of poetry, lines underlined and highlighted—obvious signs of my favorite parts, the ones that spoke the most to me. And when he couldn’t sleep, he would read. And so, I read the lines, over and over as I stood there, the tips of my fingers running over every letter as if it were brail, giving me some hidden message. But there isn’t one, not really. This message was clear, and while it was a favorite of mine, him leaving it just for me created a deeper meaning, and I knew I wouldn’t be forgetting it anytime soon.

And fare thee weel, my only luve!

And fare thee weel awhile!

And I will come again, my luve,

Though it were ten thousand mile.

#oc: camille riley #oc: naomi clarke #ch: steve rogers #ch: sam wilson #ch: natasha romanoff #ch: tony stark #my ocs #my writing #asks #guileandgall

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vikingsarememes · 4 years

Text

His True Wife

previous part ↭ part thirteen ↭

Main Characters: Hvitserk ‘whiteshirt’ Ragnarsson, Ubbe Ragnarsson, Reader.

Characters Mentioned: Ivar the Boneless, Original Characters, Torvi, Gunnhild, Bjorn Ironside, Katia, Prince Igor

Summary: you reached safety and with that, your life’s changed and your fate was decided, but this time, you are content about it even with all the obstacles that you are facing.

Word Count: 1862

A/N: the last chapter of a wonderful journey that I hope you all enjoyed as much as I did.

warnings: none

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

You descended off the boat carefully, hugging your belly, almost six months pregnant, you followed Ubbe into a small village in the middle of the isolated Island, you never heard of, but it was beautiful, green, it looked like one of those islands you heard of, where winter never arrives “Hvitserk?” he called once he reached the center, it was beautiful, farms, everywhere, animals of different kinds, men and women, even little children, there weren’t many, but it had a different pace, a peaceful place.

The man walked out of a little stable and wiped his hands with a piece of cloth, hugging Ubbe first “brother, what are you doing here?” you stood there quietly until he noticed you and embraced you in a hug “Y/N!” he beamed, a little frown creeping once he noticed you weren’t just you anymore “come, please rest and tell me what happened, you wouldn’t visit with few men if it was just because you missed me” he invited you into his humble hut, starting the fire immediately, he poured water for you and soup, you drank gratefully.

“Ivar’s bringing the Rus to takeover Kattegat, Y/N is only safe here, she’s the one who warned us, it’s the only place Ivar isn’t familiar with, you must keep her with you otherwise Ivar will kill her, he had already decided that she was a traitor”

Ubbe explained, your eyes were focused on Hvitserk, he’s changed, he seems better, way better than the last time you saw him, he was healthy, clean, well-fed, all by himself, it made your heart warm, now that he had fought his demons for good, now that he doesn’t need you up his arse all the time to make sure he’s alright, you remember the first time you brought him to your farm after Ivar, he was terrified of everything, you had to look after him as if you looked after a scared child, but now he’s a man again, he collected his shattered pieces and fixed himself.

He and Ubbe talked about things you weren’t interested in listening to, you were too focused on your own thoughts “I guess we are destined to be together for tragedies only” he mumbled to you, reaching for your hand, you took it, this time, it didn’t feel strange to you, you smiled a little, Ubbe stood up and hugged his brother “I must return to Harald at once, perhaps next time I visit I could bring you few things with me?” Hvitserk nodded “don’t worry about me, brother, I’m alright, you return, bring Bjorn too, we’ll be fine,” he said glancing at you, Ubbe hugged you both goodbye “thank you for everything Ubbe” you whispered “you take care of yourself and your child, and Hvitserk as well, next time we meet, I’ll bring you good news of the terror that will end” you nodded and watched the older one leave, leaving you all alone with Hvitserk.

Hvitserk sat next to you, and pulled you into his arms, you leaned to him and cried your heart out, he sat there and comforted you, just like you once did to him, he held you until you calmed down then brushed your tears off with his thumbs “it’s over now, Ivar cannot have a hold on you here, you can heal, I’ve missed you so much, I know you’re mad at me for leaving, but watching you with him was a pain that kept my old wounds from healing, you deserve someone better but I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me”

“It seems like everyone expected this fate but me” you mumbled, resting your head on his chest “you did too, but you chose to give him a chance”, “because I’m a fool” you sniffled “no because you are kind, and that’s what I always loved about you, the world could be burning and you’d be enjoying the bright colors, you know it’s bad, but you chose to see the good, and trust me, you will be okay, and I will not leave your side, your child will be alright as well, I swear to you” you gave him a little weak smile, he then showed you the bed, you slept the moment you laid down, hoping with days, your tiring trip, the past few days, you hoped they will all be forgotten.

- A year had passed, your son was born, healthy and safe, the other on the way, Hvitserk treated him just like his own, you never left the island, no one bothered to visit neither, you were forgotten you knew Ivar was dead though, from the night you woke up screaming, clenching to your chest, it was the same night that your son decided to be born as if the gods were telling you it’s enough sadness, it’s time to think of the future, your son Ingfred was a blessing from the gods.

You and Hvitserk had a little farm together, one that was fruitful, nothing was dead in it, you had some animals, goats, children of Brenda the goat were running around, chicken and sheep as well as horses, in this new land, no one was a slave, everyone helped everyone, it was like the stories your slaves told you about their heaven, only better, this one wasn’t a delusion.

In this new world, you are Hvitserk’s wife, and you had pride in that, walking with your head high all the time, and together, you were strong, you loved each other so much, just when you thought Freya cursed you to live brokenhearted forever, the gods proved you wrong in the shape of the childhood friend of yours, that you found broken then you lost, that he found you broken and together you were fixed, you were carrying his child as well.

“Boats!” someone shouted, Hvitserk looked at you, you looked at him horrified, for a moment you thought Ivar had found you, your visions never lied before, yet your heart was racing, you picked up your little son, your husband picked his ax and headed to the docks, you followed, with the dagger Thoman gave you, you stood next to your husband as you waited for the boat to arrive, once you realized who it was, the two of you put your weapons down.

The two men walked to you and hugged you both, with the biggest grin you hugged back “Bjorn! Ubbe! You’re finally back!” you beamed, some other men were there as well, and more plants and animals, the men were all related to the ones on the island, it was a big reunion, everyone was so happy, the five of you headed to your hut, the meal was already ready, you always made extra food in case someone somewhere was hungry, you shared a meal, Ubbe played with your son for a while, gave him few gifts, so did Bjorn.

“How are Torvi and Gunnhild? I hoped for a reunion with them as well” you were somehow disappointed “our ladies are looking after Kattegat while we visit, they send their greetings, but for now, we hope that we’ll be enough I take it you are well?” Ubbe asked, glancing at your belly, you smiled “more than enough Ubbe, we are married, well, you two saw it before us, we wished you were with us but we knew you had other responsibilities”

“The war was consuming, the Rus… they had us trapped for a month, then the war was horrible, we lost a lot of good men, even with Harald’s men we were outnumbered, and the assassins, it only ended when Ivar was killed by his new wife, yes, he took a third one, this time a Russian woman, Katia I think, she was with his child, but she was killed as well, the prince of Rus ordered her head for betrayal, once they had no leader, we attacked and swiped them, we buried him in the farm for his wish, he always said it was the only place he felt loved after Aslaug, we owed him that least.” Ubbe explained.

“You don’t seem very surprised,” Bjorn noticed, you faked a smile “I’ve known for a while now Bjorn, I’ve always had a connection with Ivar, it was my gift, and the fact that the two of you are here, not him confirms my suspicions,” you told, Hvitserk reached for your hand, even though he was your husband, he understood the love you had for his brother, he wouldn’t deny you the feelings of grief, but you accepted his fate a long time ago, there was nothing left to mourn “Kattegat is now under the wings of Harald, he kept us responsible of it for the sake of everything we’ve been through and when we helped it on its feet once again we came to you, baring gifts, and hoping the three of you would return with us” Bjorn continued, you looked at your husband frowning, he understood.

“Our life is here, stay for a few days, if you stay you’ll understand why we can’t leave, we have nothing back in Kattegat” Hvitserk replied “is there anything we can say to change your mind?” the two of you glanced at each other and shook your head no “look at them! Teaming up against us!” Bjorn scoffed “oh brother, they’ve been always a team against everyone else, it’s now that they’re husband and wife why we’re noticing it!” Ubbe answered and the four of you laughed.

- Years had passed, you and your husband watched your island grow, you were selected to lead the people, an honor that you embraced, you watched your children grow and your life was filled with happiness, you and Hvitserk made sure Ingfred knew Ivar, you told him all kind of stories about him, you told him the story of a man, everyone else despised, until they created an outrageous monster that wanted to destroy everyone and everything in his way.

You told him about a man that you loved with all of your heart, how happy you were even if it was for a short period of time, you talked about his brilliance, his intelligence, and how happy he was to learn that he will receive a child, by time, your stories of him expanded until your son had the full truth.

even though Hvitserk never treated him anything less than his own, you owe the man you once loved this much, but Hvitserk, he was another story, he was what the christens called a saint, which is funny for everyone who knows the man.

You learned how to fight alongside with your four children, one girl named Thora, and two younger boys, Rognvald and Fridlelf, and you lived a long life, the two of you watched your children grow into wonderful men and women and watched your grandchildren fill the island with laughter and love you never knew sadness or cried a tear, your life was honorable, isolated and peaceful, and when gods decided it was time to take you, you had no regrets but plenty of memories to warm your heart.

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Images source: stolen from google images.

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